


This is War

by soulfulsin



Series: Night of the Hunter [6]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Sorry Not Sorry, i'm obsessed with this universe, it's more crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: Set after A Modern Myth. Webby is adjusting to living in McDuck Manor and thinks that maybe she can be a normal kid again. Unfortunately, now that Steelbeak is behind bars and Webby is free, someone from FOWL thinks this might be the right time to take a shot at Steelbeak's daughter and overthrow Steelbeak.





	1. Chapter 1

Webby was in therapy, which she didn’t particularly like, as she didn’t trust the therapist as far as she could throw them. Then again, she barely trusted anyone, so perhaps that was an improvement. She’d parceled out enough information for the woman to feel she hadn’t wasted her time, although it was drips and drabs, mostly lies sprinkled with the truth here and there to make lies sound better. She wasn’t sure if the woman was buying it, but Webby had no intention of unburdening herself to a stranger. The only people she somewhat trusted lived in McDuck Manor, with the exception of Lena, and she hadn’t opened up to them either.

The therapist sighed at the end of their session and Webby knew that her farce had fallen short. 

“Maybe in time, we can build a relationship,” the therapist said. She was a short, slim Israeli woman with curly brown hair dressed in a trim business suit. Webby pegged her age to be late fifties, early sixties. She was a duck, like her, but that didn’t mean Webby trusted her any more because of it. Appearances could be deceiving, as she well knew.

Her younger self, the one she was remembering slowly, would have been effusive, telling the therapist anything and everything. She’d believed in oversharing. This Webby was cautious, wary that weaknesses might be used against her, and still aware that somewhere, Steelbeak was out there. She didn’t know if this woman was for real or if she had ties to FOWL. If she did, the last thing Webby ought to do was blab about the past five years.

Webby had spent the past seven years as a ward of FOWL, ostensibly “in training” to be a FOWL agent, but in reality, held hostage by Steelbeak and brainwashed into thinking FOWL was her home. While she lived at McDuck Manor, she didn’t consider it her “home”. Then again, not everything had changed once she’d moved to Duckburg.

For one thing, although she knew her mother now and she lived in town, in a small house that SHUSH had appropriated for her, Webby didn’t trust her either. Even if she’d been undercover keeping an eye on her daughter, that didn’t excuse her not interacting with her directly. Webby knew logically that she couldn’t have protected her, not without blowing her cover, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to know that her mother had stood by and let Steelbeak and Black Heron brutalize her without lifting a finger to help.

She nodded to the therapist and left the office. Outside, Launchpad McQuack and her grandmother, Bentina Beakley, were waiting in the lobby. Mrs. Beakley brightened when she saw her granddaughter, but that look soon faded. Launchpad, on the other hand, smiled at Webby and, despite herself, Webby smiled back. She didn’t want to trust anyone, but Launchpad was guileless. She couldn’t help _but _trust him. She knew that his behavior could be an act designed to get her to lower her barriers, but...the man didn’t seem like he was physically capable of carrying out subterfuge. It was a balm to her shattered nerves to be near him, though she would never admit it aloud.

“There’s always next week,” her grandmother said, spying the look on Webby’s face. Webby shrugged. Next week, the week after, the week after that--it’d all yield the same result. She’d unburdened herself slightly to Lena, but that was because she and Lena were kindred spirits. No one else understood what she’d been through. No one else had the right to her story.

“Wanna get some hamburgers and shakes?” Launchpad asked. “We can swing by Hamburger Hippo on the way back to McDuck Manor.”

“Those hamburgers are laden with fat and the shakes were produced by a machine that is washed maybe once every month,” Mrs. Beakley sniffed. 

Launchpad’s smile faltered. “But they still taste good! C’mon, you know you want some.”

Webby gazed up at Launchpad. How did he manage to wear his heart on his sleeve and not be torn to pieces? She still expected treachery around every turn and she’d been out of FOWL for three months now. Launchpad was thirty-two and yet, acted as nothing could hurt him. Like no _one _could hurt him. He was also Dewey’s best friend, which was weird, but then again, she’d grown up in a situation where there had been no other children around. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine a child befriending an adult, even if it was just for protection.

But Dewey didn’t need protection. The whole thing baffled her. She dropped her gaze and let her grandmother chastise Launchpad about spoiling meals and introducing bad habits. They walked out of the spacious lobby, out the doors, and into the hot summer air. Webby had never ventured outdoors until her return to Duckburg, wasn’t used to the seasons yet. Whenever she’d come close to approaching anything that linked outside, such as an air vent, blistering cold air had buffeted. Her original guess had been right--the FOWL base had been in Siberia. Summer was a jolt after permanent winter.

The two adults were still bickering, though Launchpad had ceded ground in a good-natured way. He opened the door for her and her grandmother, they slid inside, and the pilot/driver abandoned the argument. He rolled the divider down between the driver and the passengers.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You okay, Webby?”

She hadn’t spoken since she’d gotten out of therapy and in therapy, she’d barely spoken. Webby shrugged and was tempted to give him non-verbal responses, but he deserved better than that. She thought she could see what Dewey saw in him. The man was a good person, which was rare. He had a good heart and she shouldn’t blow him off.

“I’m fine,” she lied. 

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t lie to him, however. Lying was easy; she’d had a lot of practice in it. Perhaps she ought to be grateful that Steelbeak had never made good on his promise to beat her compassion out of her. As it was, she knew she was deficient, marred in an invisible way, and she didn’t desire to call attention to it. Besides, for all that Launchpad had a good heart, he was a simple man. She wasn’t sure he could understand her problems.

Her grandmother could, but she still distrusted her in particular. While Webby had grown accustomed to not calling her Agent 22 whenever she ran into her, she still thought it. Steelbeak and Black Heron had constantly badmouthed her grandmother and even if she hadn’t meant for the lessons to seep through, they had. She didn’t like being alone with her grandmother if she could help it and she especially didn’t like the idea of her grandmother prying into what she considered personal.

She’d had precious little privacy at FOWL HQ. The few, frightened servants there had constantly cleaned her room in search of maps and personal belongings. It wasn’t uncommon for her to painstakingly create a map or a board only for it to be demolished when she returned from training. Nothing was permanent. She knew Steelbeak had probably ordered it to prevent her from escaping or at least to teach her that nothing belonged to her. Whatever the case, Webby still didn’t know how to react to being told she could keep things, that they wouldn’t be snatched away. It made no sense to her.

A lot of things made no sense to her. That was probably why she was in therapy, not that it’d do any good.

“Webby…” Agent 22 sighed. She put a hand on Webby’s shoulder and the girl flinched, anticipating a blow that never came. She didn’t like to be touched, particularly not by adults. Children were another matter--she could almost curb her impulse to cringe when one of the boys or Lena touched her. 

She didn’t trust Louie, because she sensed he was always calculating the odds and the angles. And Huey was too perceptive for her tastes. But Dewey--Dewey was all heart. She liked him the best. Out of the three boys, she had no qualms about him touching her.

“I’m telling you, Hamburger Hippo will cheer her up,” Launchpad persisted. The argument hadn’t been laid to rest, then--it had been napping. Webby’s beak twitched.

“I don’t want her eating that garbage. 

“Webby, dear, you have to talk to us,” Agent 22 said. Webby glanced out the window. They were approaching the Duckburg Police Department, where her father was arraigned on multiple charges. She had the odd desire to see him, but she wasn’t sure if that was the chip he’d implanted in her to manipulate her or a genuine desire on her part. If she distrusted Agent 22, it was nothing compared to her loathing of Steelbeak. Steelbeak had used her a puppet at best, a pawn at worst. Loathing for him burned in the back of her throat.

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, curling up on the cushion. It ought to be enough to stop the argument, at least for now.

“You still think of me as Agent 22, don’t you?” her grandmother said flatly and this was unexpected enough that Webby turned to look at her. “It’s in your stance and how you address me. I will never hurt you. I would never even dream of hurting you.”

Webby withheld a snort. You couldn’t help what you dreamed. After all, she’d had nightmares every night since returning to McDuck Manor. Sometimes, she’d wake up screaming, tears streaking her cheeks, and she’d double-checked that her door was locked so no one could barge in and ask what was wrong. She’d then used her time-honed reflexes and self-soothed until she fell back into a troubled sleep.

Mind you, self-soothing didn’t work well at her age. She was too old to convince herself that tomorrow would be better. And lying to yourself was always harder than lying to someone else. After all, no one knew her well enough to tell when she was lying, she’d like to think. Webby knew herself better than anyone ever did or would. And she could always pick apart her falsehoods.

“Webby, _please_,” her grandmother pleaded and, like that, the dichotomy returned. When she behaved like this, Webby’s view of her shifted. Adults didn’t plead with children. It didn’t fit into her worldview. Therefore, it confused her enough to snap her out of it, albeit for a little while.

“Talk to me,” her grandmother begged.

In her world, children didn’t speak unless spoken to. But then again, they were also never encouraged to speak. Webby’s beak twitched toward a weak smile.

“I’m okay, Granny,” she said. “You can stop asking.”

They stopped in traffic near the jail and Webby’s gaze was rooted to the spot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her grandmother’s countenance darken. Her eyes flashed and although Webby knew the ire wasn’t directed at her, she shifted closer to the opposite door, away from her. 

“He’s not allowed phone calls or visitors. His only allowed visitor is his lawyer.”

“Does he miss me?” she burst out. She hated herself for it. Moreover, she hated that a part of her wanted her father to miss her, wanted him to act like he cared about her. She knew he didn’t. She knew he cared only for himself and for what he could get out of her. That didn’t mean she didn’t still yearn for his affection, despite what he’d done to her. And she still didn’t know how much of that was her and how much of it was the damned chip.

Gyro had rendered it inert and then removed as much as could safely be extracted without harming her. He’d found it fascinating and that scientific curiosity had Webby cringing and leaving him to it. She didn’t like Gyro Gearloose. She disliked Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera too, but he, like Launchpad, had an affability that was hard to dislike. It was like despite everything he’d been through, he could still face the world with a smile. She had no idea how. As far as she could tell, that was a skill she’d lost in the last five years.

“I haven’t spoken to him,” Agent 22 said sharply. “He has enough of a hold on you. Being near him raises my blood pressure.”

She touched Webby’s hand. “Please look at me.”

Reluctantly, with great effort, she tore her gaze away from the jail. Her grandmother’s expression was pleading again and it wrenched at her secret heart, the one she’d kept buried to prevent anyone from destroying it. The same one, she suspected, that Black Heron had wanted to beat out of her. She hadn’t flinched at the touch this time, which surprised her. Her grandmother seemed to take that as an encouraging sign because she squeezed her hand. 

“No one here will ever hurt you,” she promised. 

Webby scoffed. She’d believe it when she saw it. They were coming up the drive to McDuck Manor now and her grandmother leaned forward, impulsively hugging her. That was another thing. The McDuck family, extended and otherwise, believed in hugs. Webby had not been a hugger. Even now, she expected a hug to be the prelude to an attack. 

To her consternation, when her grandmother released her, tears burned the corners of her eyes and her throat was tight. Mrs. Beakley stroked Webby’s cheek and then kissed her on the forehead. It was so gentle and affectionate, Webby stared.

“You have to open up, even a little,” her grandmother implored. “You’re safe here.”

Her grandmother didn’t understand that this was precisely why Webby didn’t trust things. Everything was too simple, too pat. She glanced out the window again and saw Wren sitting on the front stoop. Launchpad let them off at the front door and then pulled around to the garage to park.

“How did it go?” her mother asked, searching her grandmother’s face. Wren’s expression fell. “Oh. I see.”

Webby didn’t have permission to leave, which was the only thing preventing her from ascending the stairs and leaving the two adults to confer about her life and how she ought to be behaving. 

“I thought by now…” Wren said softly, crestfallen. “I thought she would trust _someone _by now.”

“I trust Dewey,” Webby said, feeling oddly defensive. “And I trust Lena.”

Mrs. Beakley scoffed. “I don’t trust Lena.”

“That’s because you don’t understand her,” Webby countered. “She’s just like me.”

“In what way is she like you?” Mrs. Beakley inquired and turned a scorching gaze upon her granddaughter. Webby froze. She’d said too much. Her beak clamped shut.

“She wasn’t abused, was she?” Wren asked sharply and Webby dropped her head. She wasn’t getting into this with them. They didn’t have the right to know. What Lena had told her, she’d said in confidence. Webby wasn’t about to betray her trust. 

“It sounds like we need to have a talk with Lena too,” Agent 22 said. “Come along, Webby. I’ll make you lunch.”

Webby followed the two adults into the house. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of blue that resolved itself into Dewey. 

“Hey,” he said and beamed at her. “Wanna go play some video games?”

“Lunch first,” Agent 22 barked. “Video games second.”

“Wanna eat lunch and then play video games?” Dewey amended. She smiled back and then gasped when Dewey hugged her. Everyone here was so free with their affection. Yet when Dewey started to pull back, she reciprocated. She liked Dewey. She trusted him. She knew that he couldn’t hurt her. 

“Hmm…” was all her grandmother said, like she was weighing this exchange. Webby stepped back, aware she’d shown affection and weakness in front of the enemy. No, Agent 22 wasn’t the enemy. She was her grandmother. But she was the enemy too because she came from SHUSH.

Webby didn’t know. It was enough to make her head hurt.

“Hey,” Dewey said gently. “Hey. We can hang out while she’s making lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. She was aware she’d said more to him than she had to her family or therapist today. She let him lead her away into one of the many TV rooms, where his brothers were waiting. As usual, Louie appraised her silently and she glowered at him until he looked away. Huey was checking hook-ups on the TV to make sure everything was working.

“Are we sure that we want her playing?” Louie groused. “The last time she did, she kicked all our butts.”

Webby scoffed.

“Maybe if you stopped cheating, that wouldn’t happen,” Huey scolded. 

“Hey, it’s only cheating if you get caught,” Louie said.

“And you got caught!” Huey countered.

Webby sat near them on the couch and Dewey draped an arm about her shoulders.

“Why don’t we blow this popsicle stand?” he teased. “Go off and run into the sunset?”

Webby stared at him.

“Oh, right. You haven’t seen that many movies. Man, I keep forgetting,” he said and shook his head. “Oh, well. At least with you on my side, we’ll totally smoke my brothers.”

He smiled again at her and she shifted so she was closer to him. Yes, she trusted Dewey. She just hoped that her trust wasn’t misplaced.

* * *

Steelbeak stared at the tablet that his lawyer had snuck in for him. His lawyer was crooked--of course he was. How would anything get done otherwise? At present, he was staring at the camera the lawyer had managed to implant into McDuck Manor. Webby was playing video games with the boys and he eyed his daughter with a tightening in his gut. Unaware of observation, she appeared happy. She was cheering and losing herself in the game, forgetting everything that Steelbeak had taught her.

Dewey touched her shoulder and she hugged him. Steelbeak’s jaw dropped. His daughter was touching someone of her own volition. When Dewey hugged her back, he resisted the temptation to fling the tablet into the wall.

Then her mother came into the room and it felt like someone had sucker-punched him. Wren was still beautiful, still compelling, even after twelve years. She was a good person and he was a scoundrel. For one night, he’d possessed her and then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. However, he’d gotten Webby out of the bargain, so it wasn’t all bad.

As soon as Wren entered the room, Webby’s expression shuttered. She released Dewey and became the withdrawn shell that Steelbeak knew. Her hands fell down to her waist, where her knives should have been. It didn’t surprise him that Agent 22 wouldn’t let her walk around armed. Webby was on a hair-pin trigger right now and might’ve snapped at someone Agent 22 considered an ally.

Only someone familiar with her would recognize the signs of her agitation. She was chewing the inside of her beak, shifting from one foot to another, and her brow had furrowed. Dewey was trying to calm her down and she was ignoring him. Good. She shouldn’t be relying on someone else.

The camera didn’t provide audio, only black and white video. Still, he didn’t need the additional enhancements to see how Webby had shut down around Wren. He was proud. Wren wasn’t to be trusted. For all her charm and enticements, she was the enemy. SHUSH was the enemy. Webby would do well not to forget that.

He knew Webby wasn’t too pleased with him right now. However, he also knew that it’d only be a matter of time before she realized she couldn’t trust anyone in McDuck Manor. And when she did, he’d be waiting with open arms. 

Pretending that he was confined here was losing its appeal. Soon, he’d make a break for it. He’d prefer it to be with Webby at his side and her mother too, but he would make allowances. The Eggheads could always snatch his family. And like it or not, Wren _was _his family now. She was the mother of his child. Moreover, she belonged to _him_. And he intended to let her know that under no uncertain circumstances.

He watched Webby for a few minutes longer. Without anyone to observe him, he allowed himself to miss her. She was a good kid. Despite everything, there was a kernel of goodness deep down.

He had to destroy it. She would never be a good FOWL operative until he had. He didn’t want to see her brutalized, but he had to force the issue somehow. 

Webby turned toward the camera and Steelbeak saw the naked longing on her face as the triplets teased each other and acted like a family. He scoffed. A family was only what you brought to the table. Still...hmm. He stroked her cheek through the tablet screen.

He loved her in his own twisted way. She was a chip off the old block. And no matter what she thought, there was no way for her to escape being his daughter. 

* * *

Webby had snuck out of the manor despite being told repeatedly not to and was hanging out with Lena. Lena had brought her out here to talk to her and she could tell the other girl was jittery. They were currently in the amphitheater and Lena was pacing back and forth, seemingly talking to herself. However, Webby was watching Lena’s shadow, which appeared to be bullying her. 

Webby had no experience with magic--it wasn’t one of the things she’d been exposed to in her sheltered life--so she didn’t know what to make of this. She’d arrived here earlier than Lena had anticipated and hadn’t announced her presence. She’d wanted to observe first. Lena’s shadow didn’t look like her--it looked like an older woman who had anger issues. 

It was odd. Watching Lena be pushed around, even if it was by a magical construct, upset her. She sprang to her feet from her hidden position near the decaying stagecraft and cleared her throat. 

“Lena, are you okay?” she called. “Who is that weird woman?”

The shadow vanished and Lena chuckled weakly, attempting to blow the whole thing over. 

“What are you talking about, pink? There’s nothing weird going on here, nothing except you being creepy,” Lena teased.

Webby folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t buying it. 

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded.

“I told you,” Lena said, growing defensive and her voice louder, “nothing. Now, weren’t you going to eventually invite me to the manor? I mean, I enjoy your sneaking out, but...aren’t you going to get in trouble?”

Webby scoffed. “All I do is get yelled at. I got yelled at with FOWL too. No one hits me. It’s not a big deal.”

Lena flinched and then hopped over to her friend. “The way you talk about abuse so casually is kinda disturbing, pink.”

“Should I not?” Webby asked, feeling wrong-footed. “I thought...I thought it happened to everyone.”

She’d said the wrong thing again. Sometimes, she didn’t know she had until people looked at her strangely. Socialization was an unfamiliar construct.

Lena put a hand on Webby’s shoulder and Webby didn’t cringe or step back.

“Between you and me, pink, it is. But not with everyone. Look at those dorks you hang out with. They’ve never been hit a day in their lives.”

“Don’t call them that,” Webby snapped, defensive over the triplets. “If it hadn’t been for them, I’d still be trapped in FOWL.”

“You never told me how that went down,” Lena said, stepping back and taking her hand off Webby’s shoulder. Webby wished she hadn’t. Lena’s touch was comforting in a way that the adults touching her wasn’t.

“There’s not much to tell,” Webby answered with a shrug. “They were trapped in FOWL’s cells, I rescued them, and they rescued me.”

“But why were they down there in the first place?” 

“I…” Webby faltered. “They said it had to do with their uncle, but they never explained. That _is_ weird, now that you mention it.”

“Sounds like you’re not the only one keeping secrets. Now, c’mon. Let’s go back to the manor before your grandmother finds out and blows a fuse.”

Webby nodded and Lena studied her. After three months, the marks on her face had faded, but she had multiple scars on her back she didn’t feel comfortable showing anyone. She was careful never to let anyone see her vulnerable, either physically or emotionally, unless she knew they wouldn’t use it against her.

“Webs,” Lena said and she bit the inside of her cheek. “I want you to know that, if anything happens, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Webby asked, baffled.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Lena said and then, without explanation, darted ahead. Webby’s brow furrowed. What the hell was Lena talking about? _What _wasn’t her choice? 

She caught up with her easily but, try as she might, she couldn’t wrangle anything else out of the older teenager. She sensed conflict and pain within her, though, and it echoed her own. Lena didn’t want to be here any more than she did. Neither of them knew what they were doing or who to trust.

But Lena was keeping something big from her. Maybe in another lifetime, Webby wouldn’t have pried. In this one, however, she was covering all of her bases. She cared for Lena, but if Lena was about to betray her...she needed to know.

They approached the manor and Lena halted before the gates. She opened her beak, about to say something, when Mrs. Beakley stormed up to the gates.

“I told you to stop sneaking out at night!” Mrs. Beakley snapped.

“Hi, Agent--I mean, Granny.”

Mrs. Beakley sighed. “Oh, child, what am I going to do with you?”

She opened the gates and then hugged Webby tightly like she was afraid she might vanish. Her grandmother was shaking and Lena rolled her eyes, looking away. Before she knew quite what she was doing, Webby pulled Lena into the embrace too. 

“You need hugs too,” Webby told her, surprising herself.

Mrs. Beakley eyed Lena critically. “And perhaps a place to stay for the night. I might regret this, but, Lena, would you like to sleep over?”

Lena nodded, but Webby didn’t miss the slight misgivings. Something was up and Webby was going to find out what. 


	2. Chapter 2

Webby had never had a sleepover before. She was excited, unreasonably so, and bounced around her room trying to get everything in order. She didn’t want anything to look too childish and at the same time, she wanted to conceal anything that might get her into trouble. Her knives, for instance, which she wasn’t supposed to have and had procured anyway. Lena wasn’t the type to blab, but if her grandmother stopped by here and found out she’d stolen them back for the umpteenth time, she’d be pissed.

In the three months she’d been here, she hadn’t accumulated a lot of stuff, but what she had, she took pride in. The Quacker Patch doll had been stashed in a drawer. She found she was reluctant to throw it out because it tied her to her past, but she didn’t want to look at it and be reminded of the innocent girl she’d been before Steelbeak had gotten his mitts on her. 

“Woah, pink,” Lena said, watching Webby flounce about the room. “Calm down.”

Of her belongings from FOWL, aside from her precious knives, she had nothing. She’d thrown away her FOWL attire and other than the clothes on her back and her knives, she’d not been carrying anything else from that hell-hole. Despite that or perhaps because she wasn’t used to permanence in her life, this room still didn’t feel like her own.

“I’ve never had a sleepover before! I’ve never had friends before!” Webby blurted. 

“I can tell,” Lena said dryly. Webby stopped, huffing at her. She felt almost normal around Lena, as normal as she could get, anyway. The weird butterfly thing aside, being around Lena meant she could let her guard down. She remained suspicious of the shadow woman and thought she might do some paranormal investigations of her own, but not while Lena was here. That would be rude. And obvious.

“Hey,” Lena said gently. “It’s okay. I’ve never had friends before either.”

This halted Webby completely. She stared at her. “How could you not have had friends before?”

“I’ve never really stayed in one place before...my aunt made me move a lot.”

There was more to it than that. Her answer was cagey and Webby frowned, deciding not to push her. Lena had already demonstrated she wouldn’t reveal any more than she had to and if she was pushed, she’d withdraw. 

“So why Duckburg, then?” she asked and Lena shrugged, putting too much effort in appearing unconcerned. Lena had more tells than she thought she did. 

“There’s something my aunt wants here,” Lena said evasively.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Webby said and was surprised by how much she meant it. She seized Lena’s hands and held them. That was another thing. She could initiate touch with Lena now without feeling peculiar about it. Her heart pounded, however, and she wondered whether this was normal. Was she supposed to be feeling butterflies and electricity whenever she and Lena touched? Or was something wrong with her? Webby jerked her hands away and Lena’s face fell before she covered it up with a fake smile. 

“It looks like my aunt and your father would get along,” Lena said darkly. “They both seem like self-serving jerks.”

“My dad…” Webby hesitated. “Steelbeak...he’s…”

Her throat tightened and she shook her head. While talking about Steelbeak wasn’t taboo, not exactly, she felt like it was forbidden anyway. It was like talking about intimate affairs. Then again, in FOWL, everyone’s sexual history was everyone’s business, but she had the sense things didn’t work that way in the real world. The real world. That was how she’d come to think of her life now. The division between her two parts of her life, from what she could recall, was stark.

Besides, how was she supposed to tell Lena she was a mistake? That she’d come about through an act of violence and her father only wanted her as some sick trophy? No, she couldn’t tell her that. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Lena would understand, because she had a feeling she would, but because she didn’t like to think of it, much less say it aloud. She hadn’t told the triplets and didn’t intend to. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Lena said and shrugged. “So...where’s your rich financier? You know, Scrooge McMoneyBags. Where’s he hiding out?”

“Mr. McDuck?” Webby asked. “No clue. I don’t really...I don’t really talk to him. Or any of the adults if I can help it.”

Lena frowned, a brief look of irritation flashing across her face before it vanished. She seemed to be settling on something.

“Never mind,” she said. 

“We could play truth or dare,” Webby suggested and then faltered. “...but neither of us would choose truth, so that’s a problem.”

“We could go annoy the boys,” Lena suggested with an impish gleam in her eyes. “I don’t mean ‘hurt them’. I mean, just bug them for a while.”

Webby shook her head. Her good mood had been thoroughly punctured thinking about how she’d come into existence. That was something she was supposed to have covered in therapy, except Webby almost never spoke in therapy and they spent the hour in idle chit-chat when it wasn’t spent in complete silence. Black Heron was another topic she was supposed to discuss; she kept having nightmares that Black Heron returned from the dead and wanted revenge for Webby’s beheading her. 

“You can talk to me, you know,” Lena said, breaking into Webby’s thoughts. “I know we’re not, like, super close, but you seem like you trust me more than you do anyone else. Except maybe Dewey.”

Dewey was another one she didn’t know how to handle. Dewey also gave her butterflies and electrical shocks. Plus, she wanted to be near him a lot, as much as she wanted to be around Lena. She _liked _Dewey, perhaps a bit too much. Dewey understood her on an emotional level. While it wasn’t quite the same as her connection with Lena, Dewey knew when she was retreating into her shell and how to draw her out. Plus, she’d been helping him dig up more information on Della Duck. What little she found, she shared with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Webby said when she trusted herself to speak. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “So...what do normal kids do on sleepovers?”

“Pink, I just got finished telling you that I’ve never had a sleepover,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “Movies, I guess?”

Webby remembered how comfortable and safe she’d felt while watching a movie with Lena in that darkened theatre months ago. She would love to replicate that experience. Color rose in her cheeks and g the top of her beak. Lena was looking at her strangely and Webby ducked her head. Embarrassment, while not an unfamiliar sensation to her considering how often she’d been denigrated in FOWL, nonetheless was unusual as it had to do with how she felt about Lena. She wasn’t used to this.

“What did you do for fun in FOWL?” Lena asked and Webby looked up, the color fading from her cheeks. She fought the temptation to throw her barriers back up.

“Training, reading, exploring, finding new places to hide,” Webby said with a shrug. “You know. The usual.”

Lena sat cross-legged across from her and brushed Webby’s hair back from her cheek. Webby’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, for most people, that last one? Not so usual.”

“The hideout wasn’t built with children in mind. There were a lot of small spaces for me to wriggle into.”

“I didn’t have to worry about that,” Lena said and shrugged. “It’s kinda hard when you live with someone insane like that.”

“What’s your aunt like?” 

“Insane. A psychopath narcissist pain in the ass,” Lena replied. She cursed casually in front of Webby. Webby was used to coarse language. People in FOWL didn’t bother to censor themselves for the sake of a child. They were convinced that Webby was either as important as furniture or else a nuisance they didn’t need to bother to condescend to.

“Have you heard anything else from your father?” Lena continued.

Webby shook her head. “Agent 22--I mean, Granny--won’t let me talk to him.”

“Why do you keep calling her that? I mean, I know she’s a secret spy, but you never really explained this whole FOWL versus SHUSH thing. It’s like Spy Vs Spy.”

When Webby gave her a blank look, Lena sighed.

“You are badly in need of pop culture references.”

“My mom was a spy who worked for SHUSH--it doesn’t actually stand for anything, you know. But anyway, she met my dad, Steelbeak, at a soiree, and he seduced her. She hid away for a while when she discovered I was a viable egg, but she didn’t leave me forever. She came back to keep an eye on me in FOWL HQ and then to try to extract me.

“FOWL is the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny. Their goal is generally grand larceny, but they’ve been known to branch out from time to time.”

Webby looked down and then back up again. “‘Seduced’ is the wrong word. He took advantage of her.”

Lena’s eyes widened and she grabbed Webby’s hands. Webby’s first impulse was to jerk away and she forced herself not to. Her heart pounded and she swallowed past a lump in her throat. Lena was eyeing her now and Webby was worried she’d reject her. Then, surprising both of them, Lena hugged her tightly.

“I know what it’s like to be wanted for what you can do or what you represent,” Lena told her. She released her too soon and Webby fought a mournful sigh. 

“I had a feeling you did,” Webby said shyly. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

“Maybe…” Lena said, looking furtive again. She was definitely hiding something, but Webby had decided not to pry. She intended to stick with that decision.

“We could go bug the boys,” Webby suggested, sensing Lena withdrawing. She jumped to her feet and offered Lena a hand, which she took. Her heart pounded again and she was seized by a strong urge to hug her again. Or do more than that. 

She got that way around Dewey too and didn’t understand it for the life of her.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Lena said and an impish grin spread across her face. “They’re coming here.”

Webby cocked her head. Now that Lena mentioned it, she could sense them too. She and Lena assumed offensive positions, ready to chase the boys out her room by any means necessary. She felt a little bad about it, but they weren’t hurting them. Maybe scaring them a little, but that was okay.

“What did you mean about being wanted for what you represent?” Webby asked as they waited for the boys to approach.

“It’s a long story, pink,” Lena said, sighing. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied.

Lena shook her head. “Not now. Maybe later.”

Yet the way she said it implied that she had no intention of telling her any time soon. That was fine. Webby could afford to wait. As far as she knew, she was safe and nothing was coming for her. She could be herself without fear of recrimination or attack. And she trusted Lena, inasmuch as she trusted anyone. 

* * *

Steelbeak knew Lena. He also knew her aunt, Magica de Spell. That wasn’t important right now, though. What was important was that Webby was smiling and cheerful around Lena. She touched her casually and both girls soaked it up like they were touch-deprived. It wasn’t hard to tell that Webby had a crush on the other girl, which made Steelbeak roll his eyes. Crushes and falling in love made you weak.

That brought to mind Wren and he grimaced. Aside from his lawyer, who had arranged to move him somewhere with wireless signals, he’d had a visit from Wren. She had warned him in no uncertain terms to leave her daughter alone. Her daughter, she said. As if Webby didn’t belong to him too. Webby was finally happy, she’d claimed, and he didn’t need to stick his beak where it didn’t belong.

These were bold words from someone who was frightened of him. He’d touched her arm through the bars and she slapped him across the face. Given his metal beak, it had probably hurt her too, but she’d not capitulated to the pain. Instead, she’d warned him again to knock it off. As if she had any idea what he was doing here.

“You know, they say if you’re struck, you should turn the other cheek,” he said slyly. “Do you want me to turn around and you can smack that too?”

He waggled his tail at her and she growled.

“You aren’t taking me seriously,” she snapped, eyes flashing.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said and his jocular tone vanished. “And I know where Webbigail belongs. With me.”

Wren huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “You aren’t allowed anywhere near Webby. And don’t tell me that because you’re behind bars, that you’ll always be. You’ve probably got tricks up your sleeves that we haven’t cottoned onto yet.”

“You wound me. You think I like being locked up?” He blew her a kiss. “All you need to do is pay my bail and I can walk out of here.”

“Even if I had that kind of money--” his bail had been set at an outrageous price--”I wouldn’t spring you. Keep dreaming.”

Steelbeak rolled his eyes. He had access to that kind of money and more besides, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her. He let his gaze roam her body and she huffed, looking like she was struggling against the impulse to cover up despite being fully clothed. She might not remember their night together, but he certainly did.

“I knew I should’ve sent my mother down here instead,” Wren grumbled. She hesitated, as if reluctant to turn her back on him.

She was close enough to touch and he reached out through the bars. He tried to slap her butt, but she moved out of the way and he only struck air. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and she flipped him off before storming out. Smirking, he slicked back his feathers. Yeah, he still had it. 

With Wren gone, he was free to look at the tablet again. It was running low on battery, so he might have to be without Webby for a day while it recharged. At present, his daughter was sitting with Lena and Dewey. That was another person he had no use for. Dewey Duck. He’d helped plant the seeds of doubt in Webby’s mind and Webby was actually smiling at him and holding his hand. 

He could tell by the way Dewey was looking at Webby that he liked it. Steelbeak sneered. That girl wasn’t for him. Webby belonged to FOWL, first and foremost. 

Something pinged across his screen and he frowned, wondering who on earth could have sent him a message or known that he could even receive messages. It was short and to the point.

_“You can’t protect her anymore, Steelbeak.” _

“Who said I was protecting her in the first place?” he huffed. The message bounced back, listed as an unknown sender. Despite himself, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. 

“Wren!” he called. 

She stuck her head back along the hallway that led to his cell. He was relieved to know she hadn’t gone out of earshot range.

“What?” she snapped, irritable. “This had better not be another trick, because my patience is running thin.”

Reluctantly, he held up the tablet and she moved. Her nostrils flared.

“You’re spying on my daughter? How nice,” she snapped. He glowered at her.

“Not that,” he snapped. “The message.”

Wren read it and her eyes widened. Their gazes met and, for once, he thought they might’ve been of an accord. Someone was threatening Webby and it sounded like that person came from FOWL. She wrenched the tablet away from him.

“I need that,” she said. “As evidence.”

“And what about Webby?” he snapped. “Are you going to throw her to the wolves?”

“Of course not,” she said. She was chewing the inside of her cheek. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

Steelbeak shook his head and she sighed. “Of course not. Why should things be so simple?”

Why indeed. Again, her nostrils flared and she prodded him in the chest.

“If you’re hiding something from me--” she warned.

“Look, I know you think I don’t care about Webbigail. And that’s fine. You can think that all you want. She’s still my daughter. And she’s still the heir to FOWL. And that means that I have to look after her. Now, you wanna let this go or do you wanna figure out who this is? Because you can’t do both.”

“I’ll tell SHUSH,” she said and then her expression closeted. “Not like they’ve been particularly helpful in the last few years, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Let’s just hope that by the time they figure out their asses from their elbows, they’ll have a way to stop this guy before it’s too late,” Steelbeak scoffed. “In the meantime, I’ll have my people work on it.”

“You don’t care about Webby,” Wren retorted. “She’s just an extension of your ego.”

Steelbeak’s gaze grew hard and steely. “She’s still mine. And no one hurts what’s mine.”

* * *

Looking at her, he saw her effervescence. When she was unguarded, Webby was bubbling over with ideas and excitement. It made him want to be near her. Moreover, it made him want to kiss her, which was problematic. For one thing, Webby might misconstrue it as an attack. For another, her grandmother might kill him and he was definitely scared of Mrs. B. But Webby looked so eminently kissable that he wished he could’ve sat on his beak just to rid himself of the temptation.

They were playing a video game now and Webby, who had had little experience with video games in FOWL, nonetheless was wiping the floor with them. It probably had to with his hand-eye coordination versus hers. She’d been trained to fight and therefore, her hand-eye coordination was stellar, as well as her reflexes. He was just a normal schlub by comparison.

Webby leaned against him and he put an arm about her waist. Startled, she looked at him and, chagrined, he removed it.

“Someone’s getting adventurous,” Lena teased, though she was one to talk. She was leaning against Webby too. Webby looked like she might overload from the physical contact.

“Wake me when something happens,” Louie instructed from a love seat further away from them. He was curled up with his phone, as per his usual. Huey had already given up on beating Webby and it was only Dewey and Lena who were determined to best her. 

Webby got in a lucky trick along the race track and squealed, brushing her beak against Lena’s cheek. She squeaked, realizing in dismay what she’d done a minute too late, and dropped the controller. Her character proceeded to crash into a wall and reappear at the start line.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Webby said. 

Lena, who had turned red, was appraising Webby anew. “It’s fine, pink.”

“It...it is?” Webby said faintly.

Lena was twirling her pink lock around her finger. “You got swept up in the moment. That’s all.”

Dewey doubted that was it, but he wasn’t inclined to say anything. He was also jealous of Lena because at least Webby had kissed _her_. He huffed and Lena snorted.

“You’re pouting,” Lena told him.

“No, I’m not,” Dewey retorted, sounding like a child that has been denied his favorite treat.

“You’re such a little kid,” she countered.

“I am not!” Dewey said. His character, whom he had stopped paying attention to when Webby brushed her beak against Lena’s cheek, had likewise crashed into a wall. Lena was the only one whose character hadn’t been shunted back to the starting line.

“What’s going on?” Webby asked, oblivious. 

“Nothing,” Dewey said, balling his fists and glowering at Lena, who was laughing at him.

“What?” he snapped.

“I can’t believe I missed this,” Lena said, shaking her head. “Oh, this should be good.”

“What should be good?” Webby asked, looking from one of them to the other. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see, Webs,” Lena promised with a wicked grin. “You’ll see.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Wren is referring to my dreams that I'm married to Launchpad. XD I don't actually ship my OC with him. I just think he'd be affable regardless. 
> 
> I kinda wanna see her hook up with Steelbeak one more time (and I know that makes me a terrible person). But I'd like it to be non-roofied, thanks.

With the night winding down, Webby was aware that, for the first time, she’d have to share her bedroom with someone else. That someone would be aware of her when she was asleep and although she trusted Lena (to a certain extent), she worried that Lena might take advantage of her when she was vulnerable. That fear, implanted in her by FOWL, wouldn’t fade fast. It was why she’d locked her door coming home because Agent 22 had come in to console her after a bad dream. Her subconscious had perceived an attack and things had not progressed well from there.

Webby was too anxious to sleep, something Lena was quick to notice.

“Hey, pink,” Lena said as Webby’s head drooped. She refused to capitulate to sleep. Black Heron had forced her to remain awake for three days once as a cruel experiment (one that had ended abruptly; she’d always assumed it was Steelbeak that had interceded, but now she wondered if it was her mother). As a result, Webby knew how to stave off sleep. She also knew it wasn’t good for her.

“We can call it a night,” Lena said. It was nearing midnight and Webby’s eyes burned. She longed to have one of her hands on her knives; it didn’t feel right sleeping without them. Unable to keep her head up, she crashed onto the pillow. 

“Go to sleep,” Lena coaxed. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I’m okay,” Webby protested or tried to. She couldn’t hear herself before she passed out.

* * *

Lena hadn’t moved in the last twenty minutes, although, as her aunt felt the need to remind her, the time was ripe to grab the dime from Scrooge. Instead, she was watching Webby sleep. It wasn’t creepy--it was more because she was worried. Webby was sobbing in her sleep, pleading for mercy, and the idea of leaving her to her own devices like that made Lena sick. 

“You’re not really her friend,” Magica hissed. “What do you care if she has nightmares? She’s probably dreaming that her stupid little friends ignored her.”

“It’s not about that,” Lena snapped. “She was raised by FOWL.”

“So?” Magica sneered. “You’re using her. She doesn’t matter. Get the dime. Get it _now_.”

“She went through enough shit,” Lena retorted. They were speaking in whispers, to prevent Webby from waking and hearing them. 

“That’s another thing,” Magica returned. “I didn’t raise you to curse. Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Yes, _Aunt Magica_,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. 

“What are you waiting for? _GET THE DIME!”_

Lena knew that Magica couldn’t compel her to do anything she didn’t really want to do. Or, at least, that was how her self-loathing read it. Reluctantly, she rose, abandoned Webby to her nightmares, and headed out the door. As she did so, she cast one last glance back at her best friend, curled into a ball now and sobbing silently. Lena swallowed back bile.

“You. Are Just. Using. Her.” Magica reminded her cruelly. “And what does it matter if she’s suffering? Who are you to comfort her? You’re a monster. A freak. Now, do as I say.”

Lena nodded, throat tight. Magica’s words echoed in her mind. She crept along the hallways, searching for Scrooge’s room. Unlike Webby, everyone else kept their doors unlocked, if not open. They were all so trusting. Except for Webby. Lena stopped again.

“What are you doing? Grab the dime!”

She was a terrible person. The thing Webby most needed was someone she could trust after being brought up in FOWL and she was betraying her. If she did this and Webby caught her, she might never trust anyone. At the very least, she’d be unlikely to unburden herself to her grandmother. 

“What is your problem?” Magica demanded. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Lena said. Her chest was tight and she continued moving. Webby would forgive her. Webby had to forgive her. It was the only way Lena could live with herself. Maybe once this was all settled and Lena had her freedom, she could explain it to her.

Scrooge was fast asleep as Lena approached his room. Before Lena had a chance to nip inside, a shadow fell over her. Mrs. Beakley stood there and Lena’s heart thudded. She offered her a broad smile that hurt her beak. Sweat trickled down her neck.

“Oh, hey,” Lena said. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Mrs. Beakley said sympathetically. “I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you.”

“In the middle of the night?” Lena said, privately glad that Magica had disappeared, presumably returning to the shadow realm and hopefully being tortured there. Lena had no desire to return there. The thought, combined with her anxiety over Webby, was enough to make her want to throw up. She wasn’t using Webby, was she? Webby was an easy in to McDuck Manor, true. But the girl had suffered enough without Lena adding to it.

“Come along,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Are you all right?”

She gestured for Lena to follow her. Out of the corner of her eye, Magica made a gesture toward the dagger that Lena shoved into a plant. If she’d been sick before, it was amplified now. Magica wanted her to attack Mrs. Beakley, steal the dime, and leave. Lena’s fists balled. She didn’t know how long she could do this before something gave. Unbidden, tears came to her eyes and she wiped them away before anyone noticed. Magica sneered--Lena was being weak again.

Mrs. Beakley made them tea (such a British thing) and they sat in the kitchen. 

“I spoke with Webby earlier,” Mrs. Beakley said after they had settled. “She mentioned that you might be having trouble at home.”

“She did?” Lena said, hating how she felt betrayed. What right did she have to feel that way? She’d been about to do something similar to Webby.

“By accident.”

That made more sense. Webby could be like Fort Knox, but every once in a while, something slipped out. Whatever had precipitated her comment, Lena was torn between crying and throwing up from stress. Magica would tell her she was wasting her time talking to Mrs. Beakley. To Magica, everything revolved around the dime. Lena meant nothing in comparison. She was just a pawn.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss?” Mrs. Beakley said quietly. 

“Not really.”

Mrs. Beakley frowned. “I’ve noticed, dear, that you can be as secretive as Webby. Are you _sure _there’s nothing you’d like to tell me? I won’t judge. You can stay here for as long as you like. This is a safe place.”

Holy shit. Why was everyone in this house so nice to her? She didn’t deserve it. Lena’s throat was tight and she squeezed the mug in between her hands. The need to confess burned within her. Instead, unable to speak, she shook her head. They couldn’t help, anyway. No one could help her.

Mrs. Beakley seemed disappointed, but she took it in her stride. “Very well, dear. If you’re certain…”

“I am,” Lena managed to choke out. She pushed the mug away and decided, for now, that it was too risky to approach Scrooge’s room. After all, if Mrs. Beakley was still alive, she could end up getting caught. Surely Magica could see the sense in that. She hoped. She didn’t relish the idea of being yelled at again for no good reason.

She had left Webby’s door open and as they approached, she heard Webby sniffling. Mrs. Beakley rushed into the room and Lena hung back, feeling guilty again. Webby wouldn’t have been overheard if she hadn’t left the door open. On the wall, Magica was making a gagging motion, as if Webby’s misery was making her sick. Lena considered flipping her off, but she didn’t. She could risk being rude and a little rebellion, but not much more than that.

There was a clatter and Lena rushed into the room to find Webby had secreted one of her knives beneath her pillow and was brandishing it at her grandmother. 

“Woah, pink!” Lena called. “You were having a nightmare!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mrs. Beakley said calmly, not freaking out despite Webby’s trembling with a blade in her fist. “Webby, darling, put it down.”

Webby drew a shuddering breath and the situation seemed to dawn on her after a minute. She lowered her arm and then, reluctantly, handed the knife over to her grandmother. She hugged herself and her beak quivered. Mrs. Beakley wrapped her free arm around her.

“I’m putting these knives in the Other Bin,” Mrs. Beakley grumbled.

“Dreamt you were stuck in FOWL again?” Lena asked. Webby nodded, swiping at her face. 

“Sorry,” Webby said, lowering her head. “But I thought I locked the door…?”

“You did,” Lena said, fresh guilt surging up. “But I had to use the bathroom.”

The lie came to her so easily and yet, judging by the way Webby’s eyes narrowed, she knew she was lying. That could be problematic later.

“Would you care to tell us what it was about?” Mrs. Beakley said gently.

“Not really,” Webby said and Lena saw her shutting them out again. “I’m just gonna try to go back to sleep.”

Mrs. Beakley’s shoulders sank. She released Webby to retrieve the other knife, shook her head, and wished Webby good night. Lena could tell she was hurt that Webby wouldn’t confide in her. Lena wondered how much guilt she could live with, knowing that Webby was more likely to confide in her than her grandmother.

When Mrs. Beakley left, Webby’s eyes narrowed and she locked the door again.

“Where were you really?” Webby demanded.

“Your grandmother wanted to have a chat with me,” Lena said. It wasn’t the whole truth, but maybe it’d be enough to assuage her. 

“Before that.”

Or not. Shit.

“I told you. The bathroom,” Lena said, growing defensive. “Look, what does it matter, pink? I’m not up to anything nefarious.”

She thought she heard her shadow snort and wished she dared to flip Magica off.

“Right,” Webby said and studied her. “You and your shadow have been perfectly innocent this whole time.”

Lena’s knees got weak. “...my shadow? What the hell are you talking about, Webby? You’re still half asleep.”

“Fine, if you want to play it that way,” Webby said sharply. “But don’t pry into my secrets if you’re going to keep your own.”

Ouch. “Webby, you’re being ridiculous. My shadow’s normal, the same as everyone’s.”

“Your shadow talks,” Webby said flatly. She folded her arms across her chest. “And you left my door open in the middle of the night for a reason you’re not telling me.”

“Pink, what the hell?” Lena said, scrambling for ground. Webby was too suspicious, too quickly. “It’s not like anything was going to happen. These people are way too nice for their own good.”

“Black Heron once dropped a bucket of fresh blood on my head because I couldn’t lock my door. I didn’t even _have _a door,” Webby said warningly. “Don’t tell me I’m being paranoid.”

“Okay, uh, wow. That’s seriously messed up. Webby, no one’s gonna do anything like that here. I’m sorry I left the door open, but that doesn’t mean you need to make up stuff.”

Webby’s eyes flashed. “I’m not making anything up. You’re avoiding the question.”

This was too soon. Lena hadn’t even had more than a handful of chances to attempt to snatch the dime. Moreover, she hadn’t succeeded in it. If she lost Webby, she lost her only chance to grab the dime. She needed to come up with something plausible. The problem was that Webby was too perceptive. She seemed to have a sixth sense for when Lena was lying.

“People have lied to me my whole life, Lena,” Webby said and Lena was surprised by the heat in her voice. “They’ve manipulated me too. Don’t think I don’t know what that looks like. Gaslighting.”

“I can’t tell you, okay?” Lena burst out. “I would if I could, but I can’t, okay?”

“Not okay,” Webby said but her expression softened. “You’re going to have to tell me sometime.”

Lena’s shoulders sank. Was she letting her off the hook? Lena prayed as she hadn’t before that Webby was letting it go. Her heart pounded between her ribs.

“I will,” Lena agreed.

“Until then, don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Webby said warningly.

Lena swallowed hard. She felt like she’d dodged a bullet. Magica’s shadow within hers was appraising Webby anew. She could feel her keen curiosity and cringed. 

“Let’s go back to sleep,” Lena said in a shaky voice.

Webby nodded and crawled back into bed. Lena’s heart was still pounding. She was going to have to tread a lot more carefully from here on in. She might’ve avoided spilling now, but she couldn’t be certain that’d work in the future. Webby would be a dangerous adversary.

“Hmm,” Magica said when she thought Webby had fallen asleep. “Interesting.”

“Not interesting,” Lena hissed back. “Your stupid obsession is gonna get us both caught.”

“It’s not a ‘stupid obsession’, dumb little Lena,” Magica sneered. “And that Webster might be more useful than I thought.”

Lena did not like the sound of that. Her stomach clenched and she flopped back onto the sleeping bag. When she looked up to see whether Webby had indeed fallen asleep, she saw her staring back at her in the darkness. 

“Just talking to myself,” Lena said hurriedly.

Webby said nothing. Instead, she turned her back on her. Lena hoped that didn’t foretell things to come.

* * *

“Look who’s turning evil for little old me,” Steelbeak crooned. “I’m flattered, babe, really. You finally made the right choice.”

Wren glowered. “That’s not it and you know it.”

“You sprang for my bail,” Steelbeak said and beamed at her. “You wouldn’t have done that unless you wanted me out.”

“No, _SHUSH _sprang for your bail,” Wren corrected. “Because I convinced them that with a psychopathic FOWL member on the loose gunning for my daughter--”

“--our daughter--”

“--_my _daughter, that it was in their best interest to spring you and keep you under our thumb. Also, we need to find out where you hid those damn cameras in McDuck Manor that you've been using to spy on Webby and her friends.”

“And because you wanted me around,” Steelbeak said and leaned on her shoulder. The police officer shot her a look as if to ask “do you want me to clear him out?” and she shook her head. As much as Steelbeak touching her gave her the creeps, she had to stay on his good side or he’d set off after this person himself. She just hoped he’d keep his touches chaste. If he tried to take advantage of her again, all bets were off. 

“No,” she said. “Believe me, I’d be much happier if you stayed in that jail cell. But it’s not practical.”

Steelbeak snorted and straightened. He squeezed her butt and she wrenched his arm behind his back. Her heart pounded. He’d taken advantage of her once, but she’d been young, drunk, and stupid. She was none of those anymore.

“Don’t you ever touch me like that again,” she warned. “Or your arm isn’t the only body part I’ll break.”

“I like my girls with spice,” he said and clucked his tongue at her. She released his arm, if only because he was so slimy that she didn’t want to touch him. How drunk had she been that night? Or had Steelbeak slipped her a roofie? The thought of him and her...ugh. No, she was doing this for Webby. Webby was the important thing here, not her personal trauma.

“You’re heading to a SHUSH safe house,” she informed him. “Where you will be on your best behavior or they will put you in their own jail until your trial.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he shot back.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Wren snapped, whirling on him as they stood on the DPD stairs. She saw Fenton out of the corner of her eye and didn’t suppose he had his Gizmoduck suit handy. Yes, she knew about Gizmoduck and Fenton. The entire city practically knew.

“I didn’t sleep with you because I wanted to. I will never sleep with you of my own volition. So. Stop. Hitting. On. Me.”

“You say that now…”

“Is there a problem here?” Fenton asked, darting up the steps. Bless his good heart. He was such a softie. Wren shook her head at him.

“Are you sure?” Fenton queried. “I know Gizmoduck.”

“I’m sure,” Wren reassured him and smiled at him. “Thank you for asking, though.”

“Anything you say…” he replied, though he looked unconvinced. Then again, in her shoes, she wouldn’t be terribly convinced either. He backed off and she brought Steelbeak to a waiting SHUSH vehicle. Thankfully, she didn’t need to travel with him. SHUSH could take it from there. Unfortunately, if he wound up getting loose, that would be on her.

Swallowing her pride, she reluctantly joined him in the car, albeit in the passenger seat while he was confined to the back seat. She rolled up the divider to prohibit conversation and shuddered. She needed brain bleach and maybe a month’s worth of vodka.

Steelbeak was studying her, which she didn’t know if that was creepier or less than his speaking. His hand reached for hers and she yanked hers back. It was bad enough they were thigh to thigh, which was closer than she wanted to be. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it back. She simultaneously wished and didn’t wish that she could remember that night. Unfortunately, she could imagine all too well the feel of his hands on her body.

“You might’ve made Webby less prominent within FOWL,” she snapped, attempting to take her mind off what Steelbeak had done to her.

“What can I say? I was proud,” he scoffed and slicked back his ruff like the vain popinjay he was. “You can’t tell me you’re not proud of her. Look at all she’s done.”

“And look how traumatized she is,” she countered. “She’s afraid to show even the slightest weakness for fear someone will pounce on it.”

“And they will,” he said. She didn’t like the way he was eyeing her, that appraising look. “Look, Wren. Maybe we didn’t have the best introduction. But we can work with what we’ve got. We both care about Webby.”

“Debatable on your end,” she muttered.

“I care about her,” Steelbeak said, surprisingly heated. “We’re her parents.”

She hated that he was using “we”. She didn’t want to think of herself in conjunction with him, even if Webby belonged to both of them. It gave her the creeps.

“And I care about you because you’re part of her.”

“Great,” she muttered. The last thing she wanted was another connection to him. He’d thought he could score points with her or, worse, have “an heir and a spare”. She wasn’t letting him near her like that again, so he could just forget it.

“You only care about her because you helped bring her into this world,” she scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He placed a hand on her knee and she removed it. Her skin was crawling. 

“Is everything all right?” the driver called, unrolling the window. She blinked.

“Launchpad?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, unperturbed. “Sup? Is everything all right? Do I need to break things up back there?”

“If you could knock Steelbeak out cold, that’d be great,” Wren muttered.

Out of nowhere, Launchpad produced a bat and swung at Steelbeak’s head. Wren’s jaw dropped as did Steelbeak, who had gone unconscious from the blow to the head. She was speechless.

“That better?” he asked. “Mr. McDee always has me carry an aluminum bat in case the Beagle Boys show up, but I never thought I’d actually use it.”

Wren poked Steelbeak in the cheek. He didn’t stir.

“Thanks,” she said. She could’ve done that herself if she could bring herself to touch him. Launchpad nodded and then, pulling over, used the seat belt to tie Steelbeak up. 

“You’re a godsend,” she breathed.

“Hey, Mr. McDee and Mrs. Bee warned me that he might be a creep,” Launchpad said with a shrug. “He shouldn’t cause any trouble now.”

Like Webby, she had trouble sometimes guarding her tongue. This was one of those instances.

“Tell me you’re not seeing anyone,” she blurted and then went scarlet. “Forget I said that. In fact, I’m not talking anymore. I’m not. Ack, I can’t stop.”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“I’m not?” Launchpad said, baffled at her embarrassment. “I’m not off for a few weeks, though.”

Oh, God, he was taking her seriously. She wanted to die of mortification. Her mother would kill her if she dated Launchpad. She was pretty sure that even now, her mother still disliked him. 

“That’s okay,” she said and then bit her tongue after she said, “I’ll wait.”

“Okay,” Launchpad said. He got back into the car and started it up again. Why were words still coming out of her beak? Where was a convenient hole in the ground to swallow her up when she needed it?

“What kind of food do you like? So I know for later,” he said.

“I...I’ll tell you later,” she said, staring at Steelbeak.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” he said. “He won’t stir for a while. Not until we get there, at least.”

“Great,” she said. She wanted to bang her head into the seat and she groaned. “Sorry. I’m gonna shut up soon. I promise.”

“No, it’s fine,” he reassured her. “I like when people talk to me.”

“Launchpad!” she yelped as he narrowly avoided hitting a parked car.

“I like when people say my name too.”

Oh God, what had she signed up for?

* * *

Lena studied Webby asleep again. Magica had been blissfully silent; perhaps that woman was doing whatever passed for sleeping in the shadow realm. Lena moved forward, brushing her fingertips along Webby’s cheek. She looked so vulnerable asleep, especially with tears streaking her cheeks. Lena felt like shit.

She was going to have to betray her and she hated it. She hated herself even more, but it was the only way to literally get Magica off her back. But if Webby knew about Magica, what did she intend to do with that information? Could she actually help her without the dime?

An errant tear slipped down Lena’s cheek and she reached to brush it away when Webby’s hand covered hers. Startled, Lena jumped back.

“I learned how to fake being asleep when I was seven,” Webby said quietly. “It was a good way to get Black Heron to leave me alone, at least temporarily. Or pretend that I couldn’t hear her plotting.”

“Every time I hear about your childhood, it gets more and more messed up, pink,” Lena said. Her heart was racing and she licked her suddenly dry beak. 

Webby gazed steadfast at her. “Why is the dime so important? And what dime?”

“You don’t know about Scrooge’s number one dime? The dime that started his fortune?” Lena asked. Her heart was pounding so hard she could practically taste it. 

Webby cocked her head. “Everything that happened before I was kidnapped is gone from my memory. I’m getting bits and pieces back, but it’s gradual. That chip that FOWL installed in my brain screwed with my long-term memories.”

Oh, yes, Lena remembered that. Her stomach clenched and she felt sick again.

“Why is it so important?” Webby pressed.

That was perilously close to Magica’s mission and Lena just shook her head. Did she dare enlist Webby in retrieving it? Magica had intimated as much this morning. Lena didn’t feel comfortable using Webby as even more of a pawn.

Webby grabbed Lena’s wrists. “I’m not going to rat you out.”

_“You’re a monster. A freak,” _Magica whispered in her mind.

Lena just shook her head again and Webby sighed, releasing her.

“Let’s see what Agent 22, I mean, Granny, has for breakfast,” Webby said, sounding disappointed. 

Lena waited until Webby had dressed and left the room before turning toward Magica, whose expression was calculating.

“Yes?” Lena spat.

“She could be useful,” Magica mused. “She’s not that close to Scrooge. She would have no problems betraying him and if you brought her into your confidence, she might even side with us.”

“At what price?” Lena hissed.

“Why? Don’t you want to keep your little friend?” Magica sneered.

Of course she did. Lena folded her arms across her chest. 

“She’s been manipulated enough in her life,” Lena snapped.

“What’s a little more for the team? For _you_?” Magica said and then smiled. “I dare say she might be willing to do quite a bit for you, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Lena snapped. “And anyway, this discussion is over. I’m getting breakfast.”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me. And you know exactly what I mean. Or are you too thick to understand what Webby meant when she kissed you on the cheek?”

She’d been watching that? Fuck. What remained of Lena’s appetite fled, perhaps never to be seen again. She eyed Magica warily.

“You have an ‘in’ with her,” Magica continued. “Use it. Use her. Think of how powerful we could be.”

“I don’t want your power. I just want my freedom,” Lena snapped.

Magica snorted. “Then do as I say, you sentimental fool.”

Lena swallowed hard. It wasn’t until later that she realized that Magica hadn’t actually promised her freedom, just dangled it over her head like a carrot for the umpteenth time. 


	4. Chapter 4

Mrs. Beakley wouldn’t let her have coffee, which Lena thought was distinctly unfair. When she was on her own, she had coffee all the time, even if she had to bum it off someone. It wasn’t like she’d asked for cigarettes or pot. She didn’t smoke and she didn’t drink. Mrs. Beakley ought to be glad that Lena was relatively straitlaced for a street kid. 

Then again, the old fuddy-duddy had other things on her mind. Webby’s mother had made an appearance during breakfast and not long after her arrival, she and Mrs. B had gone into a group huddle that excluded everyone else at the table. Webby picked at her food, only looking up at the name “Steelbeak”. Lena tensed and the boys exchanged glances. Dewey changed seats, moving around the table so he could stand at Webby’s side. The boy was loyal, give him that. Loyal as a dog. Lena’s beak twitched toward a smirk.

She didn’t dare say that aloud. Webby would flip a shit. She was particularly attached to Dewey. From what little she’d been able to glean, he’d been the one who had shown her there were options. At present, he reached for her hand and she let him have it. Lena could count on one hand how many people Webby let touch her without flinching or moving away.

“What about Steelbeak?” Webby said. Her eyes flashed.

Wren sighed, seemingly resigned to apprising Webby of the situation. “I brought him to SHUSH headquarters. He was his usual charming self.”

She shuddered and Lena reached for Webby’s other hand. She could feel Magica’s presence like a malevolent bug she couldn’t squash. Sometimes, she didn’t know how the others could fail to notice her. Her presence was a weight on Lena’s chest that made it hard to breathe. It was her evil and it reminded Lena that she’d eventually have to betray Webby. Her stomach clenched; damn it, she didn’t want to be part of this anymore. Webby dealt with enough without adding Lena’s crap.

“Did he mention me?” Webby said and Lena’s and Dewey’s grip tightened. She wasn’t supposed to have feelings for Webby. This was supposed to be a surgical operation--take the dime, get out, and leave Webby’s life in tatters. Lena’s stomach roiled again. She felt like she was going to throw up.

“Webby…” Mrs. Beakley said, sounding strained. “Please.”

“Did he mention me?” Webby repeated, standing up. She didn’t release their hands. 

“Yes,” Wren said and shot her mother a look. “He mentioned you. He said he cares about you, but that’s debatable. He’s concerned for your safety.”

Judging by the sour expression on Mrs. Beakley’s face, she hadn’t expected her daughter to divulge so much. Webby sat back down and looked both satisfied and reassured. Lena glanced at Dewey, who shook his head ever so slightly. Neither of them wanted Webby to get her hopes up. Regardless of how Steelbeak claimed to feel, he was a monster that cared only about how his empire was run and how he could move people within that empire. Nothing more.

“Webby, your dad put a chip in your head that made you go insane,” Dewey said carefully. “I’m not really sure you should be asking after him.”

“I know...” Webby said and stared at her half-eaten breakfast. “Can I be excused?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Beakley and Wren said at once. Mrs. Beakley’s gaze upon her daughter was heated and Lena would be glad to leave that room. Maybe she could snag a cup of coffee on her way out. Or not--Mrs. Beakley’s look could’ve killed. She, Dewey, and Webby bowed out, Dewey looking mournfully after his crisp bacon. Lena rolled her eyes. Clearly, the Duck boys hadn’t wanted for food.

They convened in a nearby room and Lena and Dewey released Webby. She glanced from one of them to the other and Lena saw her attempting to shut them out again. She was so afraid of getting hurt that she’d do anything to prevent it. On an impulse, Lena hugged her. Webby was right. Lena did need hugs too. Besides, she’d found she liked hugs. 

Webby hugged her back and sighed.

“I know Steelbeak’s a jerk,” Webby said and pulled away from Lena. “And I know what he’s done. But he’s still my father.”

“Aunt Magica’s still my aunt, but that doesn’t mean I want her in my life,” Lena said and was surprised at herself. It was true. Webby lifted her head to look at her quizzically. 

“Sometimes, it feels like we’re attached at the hip,” Lena muttered. Louder, she said, “You don’t have to keep toxic people in your life, Webby.”

“He raised me,” Webby protested. “I can’t walk away from him. What if he still wants me?”

Magica’s words echoed in Lena’s mind again and she flinched as if struck. Dewey, fortunately, didn’t notice. His gaze lingered on Webby and he put a reassuring hand on her arm. 

“Hey,” Dewey said. “Hey. Look at me. You’re safe here. You weren’t safe in FOWL. And you’re safe here because we love and care about you. That’s all that matters, okay?”

Webby smiled weakly. She gazed steadfast at Dewey in such a way that Lena rolled her eyes. As she did so, her gut gave a treacherous lurch. Webby had kissed Lena on the cheek. But she also clearly was mooning over Dewey. What was more, Dewey clearly reciprocated. Webby really had no idea how charming she was.

“No one’s going to hurt you again,” Dewey continued. He held Webby’s hands and gazed intently into her eyes. Lena had the feeling she was a third wheel here and edged away. It felt, at least to her, like Dewey intended to kiss Webby. She could almost feel how tense he was. She could relate. Still, she didn’t dare announce her intentions that clearly. Magica might be around to spy on her. As far as Magica knew, Lena’s feelings for Webby didn’t go beyond the pale. If they went further, Magica would’ve had a field day. Would have a field day once she discovered the truth.

Dewey leaned forward and brushed his beak against Webby’s. She heard Magica make a gagging sound and whirled, irritation rising up. 

“I know you don’t like them,” Lena hissed, “but you could be a little less of a bitch.”

Magica rolled her eyes.

Webby stepped back with a sharp exclamation of “oh!” Her eyes were wide and her beak was flushed. Judging by the expression of awe and shock on her face, Webby had never been kissed before. Then again, given where Webby had spent most of her life, Lena was glad for that. 

“I’m sorry. Should I not have? Oh, man, I should’ve asked first--” Dewey said and went red too. “That wasn’t how I pictured it in my head.”

“You’ve been imagining it?” Lena snorted, trying to banish Magica by turning her back on the sorceress. “Wow, pink, looks like someone’s definitely got a thing for you.”

Webby squeaked, beet red now. Yeah, maybe Lena should’ve left when she had the chance. Webby looked like a trapped mouse.

“You look like you should be kissed,” Dewey said and then grimaced. “That didn’t come out right either, did it?”

“Wow, you two are bad at this,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know Webby’s lived a sheltered life, but you have three brothers, blue. How the hell do you fail so hardcore at this?”

“Maybe...we should go back into the kitchen now…” Webby proposed, not looking at Dewey. She gazed at Lena as if the older girl might rescue her from the situation. Lena shook her head, at the same time wishing she could’ve been the one to kiss Webby. Color rushed to her cheeks too and she devoutly wished that Magica might’ve found something else to occupy her time, at least momentarily.

They headed straight back into an argument.

“You shouldn’t have gone by yourself,” Mrs. Beakley said to Wren. “You know how dangerous he is.”

“I was drunk, Mother,” Wren snapped. 

Of Louie and Huey, there was no sign. Scrooge looked torn between breaking up the fight and not getting in the middle of it. They were two formidable women. Lena completely understood, even if she thought it was a little cowardly nonetheless.

“I can handle myself around him,” Wren continued, a bite in her voice.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about handling themselves,” Mrs. Beakley said darkly.

“Oh, honestly,” Wren said. “He’s not going to attack me in broad daylight--”

Lena cleared her throat loudly. The adults jumped and Scrooge glanced over at Lena with a look of relief that she ignored. Webby’s embarrassment faded and she bit the inside of her cheek. Reminders of how she’d been brought into this world must’ve stung. Lena stepped closer to Webby and Webby moved away.

“Pink…” Lena said softly, gently.

“Webby, I’m sorry,” Wren said quickly. “We shouldn’t have been--”

Webby spun on her heel and left. 

“Webby!” Mrs. Beakley called. Dewey started after her and Lena hauled him back.

“Let her be alone for a little while,” Lena advised. “She needs to sort it out on her own.”

“And you’re an expert on my granddaughter?” Mrs. Beakley snapped.

“Compared to you, yeah, I am,” Lena snapped.

Tension remained high in the room and Dewey, once free of Lena’s grip, rushed after Webby anyway. Lena could’ve told him that chasing after a volatile kid with PTSD and access to weapons might not end well for him, but he wouldn’t have listened. Dewey listened only to his heart, not common sense. One of these days, that was going to get him killed.

With misgivings, she followed, as did Webby’s mother and grandmother. This wasn’t going to end well.

* * *

Webby had learned at an early age to self-soothe. She was rocking back and forth in her room now with tears streaking her cheeks. She’d also learned how to cry silently, suppressing her sobs either by pressing her face into a pillow or biting the inside of her cheek until she bled. She’d closed and locked the door, for what little good that did her. Footsteps were approaching. 

“Webby?” Dewey called through the door.

Webby looked for something heavy to throw at the door. She settled for one of her knives, the ones she most assuredly was not supposed to have. However, throwing them might alert her grandmother to their being missing again. Instead, she lifted her head from her pillow.

“Go away,” Webby snapped. The only thing she didn’t have practice in while crying was speaking and she winced at the sob that escaped.

“Webby, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have heard that,” Wren called.

She was okay. She would be okay. All she needed to do was--well, no, she didn’t have a contingency plan for this. 

“Webby, please, listen to me,” Wren coaxed through the door. “Just because of how you came into this world doesn’t mean I care about you any less. Or that I love you any less. I spent seven years shadowing you to protect you. It doesn’t matter what Steelbeak did or didn’t do. My mother and I love you. And want you. Can you open the door, sweetie?”

Love. Such a foreign concept in FOWL. Letting other people see her vulnerabilities was a foreign concept too. She tossed aside her pillow. While she had no intention of opening the door, not yet, she _was _listening.

“Pink?” 

Lena. Her best friend, whom she couldn’t completely trust.

Lena cleared her throat. “For what it’s worth, pink, I wasn’t planned either. And hey, at least your family wants you. Your family’s way cooler than mine.”

Webby heard what wasn’t being said. She swiped at her cheeks and stepped closer to the door. Nonetheless, she didn’t open it. She did, however, stand with her hand hovering over the lock.

“If you’re unhappy at home…” Wren started.

“I didn’t ask for a hand-out,” Lena snapped and Webby heard the pain beneath her tone. Webby unlocked the door and Lena was there, looking thoroughly miserable. Dewey rushed in, ahead of her family, to sweep her up in a giant hug. She hugged him back and pressed his face into her neck. She was still crying.

“Oh, Webby…” Mrs. Beakley said softly. Agent 22. But, no. The way Steelbeak and the others had described it, Agent 22 would never want her. Agent 22 wasn’t _just _a SHUSH operative. She was her grandmother.

“Granny…” Webby whispered, her voice muffled by Dewey’s neck.

“We didn’t mean to upset you,” Wren added. She coaxed Webby away from Dewey and enfolded her in her arms. “Are you going to be okay?”

Webby managed a weak smile. “I opened the door, didn’t I?”

The adults exchanged a glance that Webby pretended not to notice.

“That _is _progress,” Mrs. Beakley admitted. 

“Mmm…” Wren agreed and stroked Webby’s hair in a soothing manner. “It is.”

Webby frowned, wondering if now would be a good time to ask whether she could visit Steelbeak. Her emotions regarding him were complicated, but she did want to see him, especially if what Wren said was true--that Steelbeak cared about her. Her chest tightened and Wren pulled back, holding her at arm’s length.

“Do you think if you went, I could come with you?” Webby asked. 

“Oh, Webbigail, no,” Mrs. Beakley sighed. “I don’t want that man anywhere near you for the foreseeable future.”

Webby scowled. “He’s still my dad. I still have a right to see him.”

“He lost his right to see _you _after kidnapping you and holding you hostage for almost seven years,” Wren said. She stroked Webby’s hair again and Webby moved away, glowering. She would not be treated like a kid, just because she was one.

“So you’re punishing me for something he did,” Webby said.

“You’re not being punished,” Wren said with another sidelong look at her mother. “We’re trying to protect you. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Pink, why don’t we do something fun?” Lena suggested and Webby turned to regard her and Dewey. She’d forgotten they were there for a minute.

“Like what?” Webby said dully. She wanted to see her father, damn it. 

“A movie? We could go to the mall,” Lena suggested and her beak twisted into a wry smile. “You liked the mall, didn’t you? It has a bookstore and candy store, not to mention we could get our hair done…”

Webby looked at her hair, which she’d done into a bob. She didn’t know why, but the style had appealed to her. “I could get a new ribbon…”

She hadn’t worn a ribbon since before her abduction and she found she missed it. However, that didn’t mean she was giving up on seeing Steelbeak. As far as she was concerned, this was a temporary snag. 

“And no, we’re not going to tell you where he is, so don’t ask,” Mrs. Beakley said and then kissed Webby on the forehead. “It’s hard to let you out of my sight. I know I have to let you grow up and Duckburg is a relatively safe place. I just worry about you.”

Lena and Dewey pulled Webby away after Wren and Agent 22 gave her another quick hug and they parted ways. Lena looked solemn, almost serious, until they had rounded the corner and were out of sight. Then she grinned mischievously. Dewey, in contrast, looked baffled at the look on Lena’s face.

“What...what’s going on?” Dewey said.

“We’re not going to the mall, are we?” Webby said.

“Did you really buy that?” Lena snorted. “I expected you to fall for it, blue, but I had higher hopes for you, Webby.”

“Then where _are _we going?” Dewey said. “We’re not going after Steelbeak, are we?”

Lena’s smile flickered. “There’s an abandoned subway station near the movie theatre. Wanna go?”

“I thought you were on board with finding my dad,” Webby protested.

“Listen, pink, I know a thing about this sort of stuff. And the last thing you want to do is come crawling back to him. If he wants you and cares about you, then he needs to prove it.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea...I mean…” Dewey brushed his thumb along a scar on Webby’s cheek. “He let that happen.”

“Heh, yeah,” Webby said. “Not as bad as what’s on my back, though.”

Lena’s and Dewey’s eyes widened. 

“What the heck did they _do _to you in FOWL?” Dewey said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Webby said, growing alarmed at how seriously they were taking this. “Just a few scars and marks where you can see the stitches. Everybody has them.”

She faltered under their stares. 

“Right?”

“No, pink, not right,” Lena said. She folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you so determined to see him?”

“I have to know why he did it,” Webby said. “I have to know why he kidnapped me, why he put the chip in my head, and what he thought he was doing to my mom.”

“Maybe there’s a way you can talk to him without coming face to face,” Dewey suggested.

“Like call him? There’s no way SHUSH is going to let him have a phone,” Lena objected.

“I mean, you could FaceTime him,” Dewey suggested. “Or call for him when your mom and grandmother are in a SHUSH hideout.”

“They could ignore the call,” Lena pointed out. She frowned at Webby. “Pink, this is ridiculous. Take it from me--you need to stay away from people like that. He doesn’t really care about you. He cares about what he can get out of you. Trust me--I have a family like that too.”

Webby shook her head. “He loves me.”

“You told me this morning that you’ve been manipulated, lied to, and gaslighted most of your life,” Lena said, ruthless. “You really think Steelbeak wouldn’t do or say anything to get you back on his side?”

Webby bit the inside of her cheek. 

“I know you’re scared,” Lena said in a softer voice and put a hand on Webby’s shoulder. “And I know you don’t know how to handle yourself around here. It’s jarring to have people be nice to you after a lifetime of taking people’s crap. But you deserve it. If anyone deserves a good home, it’s you.”

“And what about you?” Dewey said before Webby could. “Doesn’t everyone deserve that?”

Lena’s smile was humorless and bleak. “Don’t change the subject, blue.”

“You didn’t deserve what Steelbeak and Black Heron put you through,” Lena continued.

“Webs,” Dewey said and she glanced over at him. “Steelbeak congratulated you on killing Black Heron. We saw it. What kind of dad does that to their kid?”

Her chest was tight and spots flickered before her eyes. She didn’t realize she was breathing heavier, closer to hyperventilating, until Dewey hugged her. Her arms automatically flew around him to anchor him to her. She was shaking. It was like without him, she’d float away, become unmoored from reality.

“He...he did it...for me…” Webby protested, her voice higher than normal. “To make me…”

“That’s not true,” Dewey said gently. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and stroked her face with his thumbs. 

“He did it...he did it…”

Terrible visions assailed her and she could taste the hot, metallic blood in her beak again. Shuddering, she thought to push him away, but instead clung to him. He hadn’t given up on her. He’d been the first one to extend the olive branch. When no one else believed in her, he had. Her beak quivered.

“You’re not there, you’re here,” Dewey said and stroked her cheeks.

“I still...I still want to know why…” Webby whispered and Lena stepped forward to stroke her hair. 

“We’ll find out,” Lena vowed. “But we’ll do it together.”

Despite her mood, Webby felt a faint smile on her face. Together or not at all. That was all right with her, she thought. They’d find a way to make this happen somehow.

* * *

She knew she was making a mistake, but Steelbeak would only talk if Wren walked into the room alone, without the cameras on. Mrs. Beakley was right outside, as were the guards, yet Wren was apprehensive. No new news had come in regarding the threat toward Webby, but Steelbeak claimed that he might be able to help them. He was doing push-ups when she entered his small room, furnished more like a guest bedroom than a cell.

She watched him without his shirt on for a minute. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but that was all she’d admit to. Seeing him reminded her of that missing night and all the pain that had followed, even if Webby had come out of that too. Steelbeak seemed unaware of her presence, but she knew he was cognizant of it. 

“Hey,” Steelbeak said and Wren glowered. He was always so patronizing, especially when he was trying to be nonchalant. 

“Hi,” she said. “You said you had information for us. This had better not be a trap, Steelbeak. There are guards outside.”

“And by the time they got here, whatever happened would be over,” Steelbeak snorted, straightening up and wiping away sweat with his towel. She forced herself to look him in the face and not let her attention drift elsewhere.

“Right,” Wren said and folded her arms across her chest. “And you needed the cameras shut off and me alone for what reason? I’m not a stupid little teenager anymore, Steelbeak.”

“I wanted to talk,” Steelbeak scoffed. “I’m not in the mood for that.”

He threw a shirt back on and sat down on the bed. He patted the spot beside her and she opted to remain standing. She didn’t want to give into any sort of temptation. The last thing she needed was for him to have leverage over her. She also didn’t know how thick the walls were and since when did that mean anything? Goddamn it, another thought she didn’t need.

“Let me guess--you wanted to discuss my joining you in FOWL,” Wren snapped.

“I’m persona non grata at FOWL right now,” Steelbeak said, shrugging. “Let myself get captured by Agent 22, get hoodwinked by my own daughter; they’re not too pleased with me.”

“I don’t blame them,” Wren snorted. “I’m not pleased with you either.”

“How is she?” Steelbeak said. “How’s she adjusting to a ‘normal’ life?”

“If you don’t have any useful information for me, then I’m leaving,” she spat.

“No, you’re not,” he scoffed. “You’re desperate for an ‘in’ to Webby’s psyche. She’s not proving as tractable as you were hoping, is she?”

Wren grimaced. “Well, no, but that’s not the problem right now. How do I know you didn’t fabricate that message just to force me to pay more attention to you?”

His eyes narrowed. “I swear I didn’t. Look, I have a few enemies within FOWL, when the bigwigs put me as the face of FOWL rather than them. But the problem is that most of the old FOWL enemies went to ground. I don’t mean SHUSH--I mean the ones claiming FOWL allegiance who have it out for me.”

He stretched out on the bed. It wasn’t quite big enough for two people, anyway. She shunted that thought aside, as well as an alternative suggesting she didn’t need to be side by side with him. _Ugh_.

“I trained Webby so she could take them on and protect herself,” he continued. “It’s worked, hasn’t it? She doesn’t trust anyone.”

He scowled. “Except Dewey Duck and Lena. That was a mistake.”

Wren smiled, bleakly amused. “You miscalculated. You thought she’d fear closeness more than she’d crave it. And the Duck boys are good kids, even Louie.”

Steelbeak glowered. “And the children are going to protect her? She’s more than capable of defending herself. Killing Black Heron proved it. It also proved that she’s not suitable for a ‘normal’ life.”

“She killed Black Heron in self-defense,” Wren spat. “And if you’re not going to give me names, then we’re through.”

“Tell me, does she still cry at night?” He shook his head as if rueful. “We were going to work on that next. She let herself be too vulnerable, even in her sleep, and it’s telling. It’s--”

Wren didn’t know what he was about to say, nor did she care. She slapped him across the face, no matter his metal beak. Seeing as that hurt her more than him, she followed it up with a stiff uppercut to his chin. 

Steelbeak slammed into the bed and then gasped, straightening up. “You knew she cries in her sleep. Don’t blame me if you’re not a good parent.”

Wren was shaking now, anger flooding her. The door opened and her mother stood on the other side. 

“Wren?” she queried and Wren scowled.

“He’s not going to give us anything,” Wren spat. “We’re through.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mrs. Beakley said and tugged her daughter through the door. She glowered at Steelbeak. “The next step is a gulag.”

Steelbeak sneered. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Mrs. Beakley snapped and slammed the door in his face. Wren was still trembling and as soon as they were away from the door, she spun, swallowing past a lump in her throat.

“I had it under control,” Wren said.

“You’re letting him get to you.”

“You let him do the same damn thing! Don’t pretend to take the high horse!”

“He mentioned Webby, didn’t he?” Mrs. Beakley steered Wren toward the door and Wren swallowed hard, painfully.

“Yes.” Admitting it hurt too.

She turned on her mother again. “She’s still not adjusting, Mother.”

“She’s better than she was. We can’t expect miracles...no matter how frustrating this is. He had her for almost seven years. That’s a long time in the life of a child.

“At least she trusts Dewey and Lena.”

“I suppose…” Wren said. “It still feels so slow.”

“It’ll take a while to dig his claws out of her psyche,” Mrs. Beakley said and shook her head. “We have to keep working on it.”

Wren nodded. It didn’t make her feel much better, though. She cast one last glance toward the SHUSH safehouse and walked toward the car. She knew she’d have to deal with him again. She’d brought this upon herself.


	5. Chapter 5

“So, pink, what the hell were you talking about before?” Lena said. Dewey had gone off for snacks in the kitchen. “What happened to your back?”

Webby hesitated and Lena knew she was afraid she’d reveal too much that could be used against her. In this, at least, her secret would be safe with her. Besides, Magica had been absent for a span, which while never a good thing, at least meant Lena got a brief respite. Webby shifted from one foot to the other and Lena put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise.”

She was still wavering and Lena knew she needed a little push. 

“I swear on my life, Webby.”

Whatever her pathetic life was worth, considering she wasn’t even alive in the first place. She was a magical construct, not a real duck. She didn’t know how much more she could push and prod her without it backfiring, either. Webby was suspicious as it was.

“Okay, but you can’t tell Agent 22,” Webby warned. “Or Dewey.”

Glancing behind her to ensure that the door was closed and locked, Webby lifted up her shirt and turned so her back was toward Lena. Lena’s eyes widened and she felt sick to her stomach. Webby’s back was a map of lacerations, stitched closed wounds, and healed whip marks. No one should have that, never mind a kid. Lena stepped forward, hand hovering over her back.

“Holy shit…” Lena breathed. 

“Yeah, it’s a mess. I assume. Hard to see my back.”

Webby put her shirt back on, but the mental image stayed with Lena. Guilt threatened to swallow her whole. She’d known Webby for three months and in that time, she’d been increasingly leery of continuing the charade. Now she knew she didn’t have the heart for it. She trembled, throat constricted.

“Webby…” Lena breathed but didn’t know how to continue. This was child abuse, plain and simple. This was worse than anything Magica had ever subjected her to. And Lena had deserved, perhaps, what she’d gotten. Webby was such a sweet kid, beneath all of that brainwashing. She didn’t deserve any of what she’d endured.

“It’s not that big a deal. It’s all healed now anyway,” Webby said, trying to play it off. 

Someone knocked at the door and at Webby’s nod, Lena let them in. It was Dewey with a plate of cookies. He glanced at Webby and then at Lena.

“Why do you look like that? Like you got clubbed over the head?” Dewey asked Lena.

“It’s not important,” Lena snapped. She was angry at herself for stringing Webby along and furious with the anonymous FOWL agents that had slashed at Webby’s back like that. She threw her arms about Webby and hugged her tightly. Webby, surprised, hugged her back.

“Are you sure?” Dewey said, looking confused. “Because you sound kinda like it was.”

“It’s not,” Webby said and gave Lena a quick squeeze before letting her arms drop. Lena released her.

“So, uh, cookies?” Dewey suggested, offering them the plate. Lena shook her head. She’d never been less hungry in her life. Webby took one, though her gaze was hooked onto Lena.

“Are you okay?” Webby murmured.

“Fine, never better, pink,” Lena said. “Maybe we should do something distracting before bed.”

Like shooting herself in the foot. However, she wasn’t about to say that or even imply it. Something told Webby might take her at her word. 

“Like what?” Dewey asked.

“You know, I don’t remember asking for boys at a sleepover,” Lena teased, although her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to go back in time and kick ass for what these people had done to Webby. She was sick with a combination of fury and guilt. No wonder Webby didn’t want her grandmother or Dewey to see her back. Mrs. Beakley would be apoplectic with rage. Dewey would probably be disconcerted.

“It’s fine,” Webby said. She looked uneasy.

“Seriously, you guys, what did I miss?” Dewey pressed.

Webby looked waspish and then sighed. “You have to promise not to tell my grandmother.”

“Tell her what?” 

Webby revealed that atrocious mix of wounds again and Dewey dropped the cookie plate. It shattered on the floor and sent cookies flying everywhere. Unlike Lena, Dewey dared to advance and press his fingertips against Webby’s lacerated back. Webby shuddered but allowed it.

“What...what happened?” Dewey’s voice was faint.

“Black Heron happened,” Webby said and then shrugged. “And a few other agents whose names I don’t remember right now.” 

“I told you the marks on my face weren’t as bad as the ones on my back,” Webby said and dropped her shirt back down.

“You have to tell Mrs. Beakley,” Dewey said and Webby whirled on him.

“No,” she hissed. “If I do that, she’ll never let me see Steelbeak again.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Dewey asked. “Webby, he put a chip in your head to control you and he let _this _happen. Plus he’s the head of an evil organization bent on world domination.”

“But he’s still my dad…” Webby protested.

“Yeah, okay, technically, that’s true, but only technically,” Dewey said. “If he really cared about you, he’d never let those things happen to you.”

“He was toughening me up,” Webby shot back.

“Toughening you up for what?” Dewey said. 

“To take over in FOWL,” Webby said.

“Pink, you never wanted that,” Lena interjected.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t, but his heart was in the right place.” 

It might’ve been Lena’s imagination, but Webby’s retorts were holding less and less weight. She looked increasingly desperate to prove her case and have them believe her without presenting any actual evidence.

“No, his heart was in the _wrong _place,” Dewey argued. “I don’t get it. You know he’s no good. Why do you keep defending him?”

Webby’s shoulders sank. “I have to. No one else will.”

“That’s because he doesn’t deserve it,” Lena said.

“C’mon. We need to tell Beakley about your back,” Dewey said.

“No!” Webby growled. She hugged herself. She drew a deep breath to brace herself. “Look, she’s already upset as it is about what Steelbeak did and let happen to me. I can’t, okay?”

“What are you afraid of?” Dewey asked and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Her,” Webby admitted in a whisper. “I’m afraid of Agent 22.”

She sighed and said louder, “I grew up being told that SHUSH and Agent 22 were the big bad. I mean, everyone has to have a villain, right? And FOWL couldn’t be their own villains, so someone else had to take the role. Agent 22 was either evil or incompetent or both.”

Lena snorted. “So, in other words, shift the blame onto someone else. Classic.”

“You can’t tell her, okay?” Webby said.

“She’s not going to be mad at you,” Dewey said. “It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

Webby’s gaze fell onto the floor and Lena felt like someone had sucker-punched her. She knew that look well. It was Webby trying to defend herself, attempting to shield herself from any harm, self-inflicted or otherwise. Like Lena, Webby believed she deserved what she’d gotten. 

“Please?” Webby pleaded. “Don’t.”

Dewey glanced at Lena and relented. “Okay. We won’t. Now. But you need to talk to her about it. She’s not going to be mad.”

Webby’s beak twitched but she couldn’t quite muster a smile. “Maybe.”

Lena didn’t think even Webby believed herself. 

“If we’re not getting rid of the boys, then I guess we’d better go bother Huey and Louie,” Lena proposed and Webby relaxed minutely. She put a hand on Webby’s back and swallowed hard. The sudden need to defend her and protect her was strong. Someone had abused her something fierce and they’d gotten away with it. 

“Lena?” Webby queried, looking up at her in puzzlement.

“It’s nothing,” Lena lied. Man, she hoped Magica de Spell hadn’t caught wind of this conversation. She had to talk to her and tell her that it was off. Of course, Magica wouldn’t stand for that and Lena would have to deal with the repercussions…

* * *

Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, she left Webby’s room to steal the dime. She hated herself for doing it or for the appearance of doing it. Now, however, she knew what she had to do and she dreaded it. She’d never have her freedom. She’d be saddled with Magica for the rest of her doubtlessly miserable life. 

She stopped in front of the closest bathroom to Webby’s room with no memory of traversing the corridor. Her heart was pounding. It didn’t take long for Magica to materialize.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lena snapped. “I can’t keep lying to her.”

“I told you to get her on your side. It shouldn’t be that difficult. She’s been raised by villains. She has a predisposition toward it,” Magica sniffed.

“I’m not putting her through that again,” Lena retorted. “I’m going to tell her the truth.”

“And what do you think will happen?” she sneered. “Do you think Webby would welcome you with open arms once she finds out that you’re a construct? Not even a real person? You’re a freak. A monster.”

“She’s been manipulated enough,” Lena snapped. “I’m not letting you--”

“My dear dumb little Lena, did you ever think you had a _choice_?” Magica rejoined. “If you tell her what’s going on, you’ll never have your freedom. You’ll be banished back to the shadow realm again and you’ll deserve it. You’re not real. You’re just a magical accident.”

“Maybe I am, but I’m not evil like you.”

“But at least I’m _real_. Do you mean to tell me your friendship with Webster is more important than your freedom? That you’d rather keep from hurting her than surviving? Because that’s what it sounds like to me.

“Why do you care so much about her? She’d throw you aside in an instant.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Lena snapped. “She cares about me.”

“Then why don’t we do a little experiment, hmm?” Magica taunted. “You tell her the truth about who you really are, after you’ve taken the dime, of course, and we see how well she reacts, shall we? We’ll see how keen she is on you then.”

Lena’s stomach clenched and she doubled over. The pain wracking her was intense and she didn’t know if it was Magica causing it or her own guilt. She was betting on the latter. Her throat burned with acid and she was suddenly aware of the door open. She’d locked it, hadn’t she? 

“Time’s up. What’s going on?” Webby snapped.

Lena, completely at a loss, stared for a minute. Her jaw dropped and she squeaked. She didn’t know how much of that Webby had heard, but all of it was damning. How could she and Magica have grown so careless? Normally, as soon as they heard footsteps, they stopped. But had Magica done this on purpose, to sabotage her? No, because then it’d hurt her too. At least, that was what Lena assumed.

“I’ve learned how to disguise my footsteps since I was three,” Webby said. “And you left the door open a crack.”

“I could’ve sworn I closed it…” Lena said faintly.

“What part of that wasn’t I supposed to hear?” Webby said, folding her arms across her chest. “Was it the part about your using me to get into the manor to get Scrooge’s number one dime? Or the part about your not being a real person? Or was it the part about lying to me?” 

She advanced and even without her knives, Webby was formidable. 

“Were you ever really my friend, Lena?” 

Lena found her voice after a few rough starts. “Yes! I’ve been friends with you since before Magica hatched this plan, since before I even knew you were in McDuck Manor, and even if I have lied to you to get the dime for Magica, I didn’t want to. That thing you heard was me trying to back out--”

“What’s going on?” Dewey said.

“Get out,” Webby said flatly. Lena’s stomach clenched. She’d never heard Webby so cold. Was this how she’d survived in FOWL, by shutting people out after they’d hurt her? Lena didn’t want to be compared to those jerks that had hurt Webby so badly. She wasn’t a malicious cretin like them. Couldn’t Webby see that? 

“No,” Dewey said. “What’s going on?”

Lena could feel frustrated tears welling in her eyes. She swiped at her face. Now was not the time to cry. She had to stand strong right now and deal with the mess she’d caused. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lena said. “I know what you’ve been through--”

Lena glanced outside and came to a sudden stop. Though when she entered the bathroom, there had been no window, now there was. She could see the moon hanging low in the sky. The eclipse was near, far sooner than she’d thought. She’d thought she’d had more time. 

Darkness threatened the edges of her vision and she collapsed, gasping. It felt like Magica was trying to strangle her from the inside. Maybe she was. Maybe this was her punishment for insurrection. 

“Lena!” Webby cried, her anger temporarily forgotten. She fell to her knees beside her. She put her hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you poor sentimental fool,” Magica crooned through Lena’s beak. “Look what a mess you’ve made.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lena…” Dewey said softly.

Magica snorted and rushed ahead. Webby caught up to her quickly and tackled her. While Lena would’ve had compunctions about hurting Webby, Magica had none. She also had no desire to play nice, either. Webby faltered and Magica punched her in the face. She followed it up with a kick to her stomach and then threw her at the wall. By this time, however, Webby had regained her traction. She arrested her fall and landed on her knee. From there, she assumed a defensive stance. 

“You’re not Lena,” Webby spat, wiping at her face. “Who are you and what have you done with her?”

Lena struggled. She had to get control back. She had to stop this before it went too far. She didn’t want to hurt Webby. And Magica thought this was all a big scam. She didn’t care what happened to anyone who stood in her way.

Magica swept a mocking bow in Lena’s body and then ran faster than Lena thought she could have toward Scrooge McDuck’s room. Webby and Dewey were on her heels. The time for subtlety was over. Lena snarled in her own mind, thrashing.

“Let me out, damn you!” Lena snapped and worked at expelling Magica. Magica snorted, only permitting her that brief breather before shunting her back down again.

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your aunt?” Magica taunted.

Lena couldn’t see any possible way for this to work in Magica’s favor. She’d tipped her hand too early and there were too many adversaries here. She would need to grab the dime and quickly so she could fight her way out of this. Of course, none of that mattered to Lena, because Lena just wanted to speak to Webby about what was going on. She hadn’t meant to betray her…

She struggled harder, willing herself to escape Magica’s constraints. Someone was shaking her and none too gently. They were also calling her name. It sounded like Webby…

“Ignore her!” Magica snapped and put on an extra spurt of speed. She tore into Scrooge’s room and yanked the dime off its necklace, waking him in the process.

“Finally! At long last, my power has returned!” Magica crooned. “And I no longer need _you_…”

Sneering, the sorceress shed Lena like snakeskin and slashed at Webby’s throat. Lena found herself falling, deeper, deeper into the shadow realm, even as she heard Webby scream...

* * *

“Lena! Lena, wake up, you snoring angel!” Webby called. Lena was shuddering and whimpering in her sleep. It looked like Webby wasn’t the only one who suffered nightmares. She rocked her back and forth and when that didn’t work, she kissed her on the beak. The result was enough to startle Lena awake.

“What...where am I?” Lena murmured. “Webby?”

“I’m here. You were having a bad dream,” Webby said and cupped her cheek in her palm. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No, not really,” Lena said. She still looked like she was trapped within the throes of the nightmare. Hugging herself, she rocked back and forth. Webby frowned. She recognized that behavior; she’d done it herself countless times. Wrapping her arms about Lena, she rested her chin on her shoulder.

“Whatever you were dreaming about won’t happen,” Webby whispered.

Lena laughed, a short bark that troubled Webby. “Whatever you say, pink. Whatever you say.”

“Tell me,” Webby pressed. 

Lena glanced up at the window. The eclipse was two weeks away. She barely had any time left; her nightmare hadn’t lied about that. She could taste her heartbeat and shuddered. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She was such an awful friend.

“You have to promise not to freak out on me,” Lena warned. She could feel herself ready to take the plunge and she hugged Webby back.

“Okay…” Webby said, confused. She was so cute when she didn’t know what was going on. So cute and despite it all, so innocent. Lena’s chest was tight.

Lena opened her beak and nothing came out. Alarmed, she ran her hands over her beak and then found it sealed. No, no, she had more time. The eclipse wasn’t for two weeks. Magica couldn’t have more power yet. Since she couldn’t speak, she made a mute entreaty to Webby with her eyes. She begged Webby to understand what might be coming, even as her body pushed her away.

Lena fought, feeling the terror from her nightmare surge. “Magica…”

That was all she managed to choke out.

“Magica?” Webby asked quizzically. Lena cursed inwardly. She wouldn’t remember Magica de Spell. FOWL had blocked her earlier memories of when she’d been obsessed with the McDuck clan and its lore. There was no guarantee she’d regained those memories and even if she had, whether she understood their importance. Lena continued to make a mute appeal with her eyes.

She could feel her spirits sink. Magica would take over, Lena would have no choice in the matter, and there’d be nothing for it. She’d throw away the only person who had ever cared about Lena all because of the stupid dime. 

She felt like crying. She thought she’d had more time...

* * *

Wren was here, at night, by herself. She knew she shouldn’t be. She knew she couldn’t trust herself, despite what she’d told her mother to the contrary. She was here because she was weak and because she needed to talk to Steelbeak without people looming over her shoulder. It wasn’t the best or brightest of ideas, but it was what she said and she intended to use it.

Once more unto the breach...or from the frying pan into the fire. Use whatever metaphor you want, that was where she was. She shivered. Here went nothing.

Steelbeak was hunched over another screen and she growled.

“Did I not just confiscate a tablet from you?” she demanded and he looked up.

“Oh, hey,” he said, nonchalant. “Long time, no speak.”

“You said you have information about who might be targeting Webby,” Wren snapped. “I’m not here to exchange pleasantries.”

He was studying her carefully and she wondered whether he was assessing her weaknesses. She stiffened, ready to fight him if need be. However, he showed no inclination toward an argument. Instead, he straightened up and regarded her through the bars.

“How is she?” he asked. 

“Fine,” Wren said through gritted teeth. Steelbeak snorted.

“No, she’s not,” he said. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Wren sighed, shoulders slumping. “All right, fine, she’s not. Happy?”

“Not really. Not unless you wanted to come in and give me a personal massage?” Steelbeak said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. She huffed. She’d spent almost seven years lurking in the background of his operations and being careful not to get too close to him and this was part of the reason why. 

“No,” she said curtly. “I don’t. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You probably noticed the marks on her back,” he said, still nonchalant. The pit dropped out of her stomach. 

“No…,” she said slowly. “She doesn’t trust me enough to undress in front of me. She doesn’t trust my mother, either, for that matter. How do you know about them?”

“Because I caught Heron inflicting a few of them,” Steelbeak scoffed. “I figured that where there were a few, there were probably more.”

Wren felt sick to her stomach. Just how much was her daughter hiding? And here was the culprit right in front of her. She felt too ill to hit him the way he deserved.

“Black Heron wasn’t the only one, but she was the only one I caught at it,” Steelbeak continued. 

“There were others,” Wren said slowly, coldly. “You let other people hit her.”

“I didn’t _let _them,” he snapped, defensively. “She’s my kid. She has a giant target on her back and some people thought if they attacked her, they’d get my attention. But I don’t notice lowlifes.”

“You knew this was going on,” Wren continued, throat tight. “You knew people would attack our daughter because of her closeness to you and not only did you let it happen, you practically _encouraged _it by never stepping in or calling attention to it.”

Wren was one step away from screaming. Her blood pounded in her ears and a vein throbbed in her forehead. She was so angry, she was grinding her teeth and gripping the bars in front of her hard enough to dig the metal into her palms.

She didn’t think she’d been quite so furious in her entire life.

“She needed to learn how to defend herself.”

Wren howled, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming his head into the bars. She couldn’t help herself. She was seeing red, literally.

“You son of a bitch,” she hissed. “You motherfucking lowlife scum of the earth. You let adults prey on an innocent child to _teach her a lesson_?”

Dazed, Steelbeak attempted to wrestle out of her grasp, but her grip on him was like iron. 

“She learned, didn’t she?” Steelbeak said.

Wren breathed hard, willing herself not to murder him and paint the walls with his blood.

“I’m giving you one more chance to tell me who it is,” Wren said in a harsh tone that she didn’t even recognize. “Before I sic my mother on you.”

Something in her voice must’ve gotten through to Steelbeak because he stopped acting so damn cocky. His eyes widened and fear made him tremble. Wren was too firmly entrenched in her anger to take much note.

“There is a mother and son team,” Steelbeak said, swallowing hard. “I don’t know where they live or what they’re doing now.”

“Names,” Wren spat.

“Craig and Callisto,” Steelbeak blurted. “Wren, baby, I--”

“I’m telling my mother to drop you into a gulag,” Wren sneered. “And throw away the key.”

Launchpad was outside in the limo when she got there, even though she hadn’t called for him and she hadn’t alerted anyone to her disappearance. When he opened the door, she found her mother sitting in the backseat. Wren nodded, unable to speak. She was still quivering in outrage.

“What is it?” Mrs. Beakley asked. Launchpad kept the divider between them and stayed silent.

Wren shook her head. She couldn’t choke it out yet. 

It took five full minutes before Wren’s head had cleared enough to speak. When she did, she looked out the window at the passing city rather than at her mother. 

“Webby. Steelbeak...Steelbeak let other FOWL members abuse her to get his attention,” Wren said in a trembling voice. “He said her back is full of marks.”

At once, the rage subsided, replaced by fear as she met her mother’s eyes. “Mother, what else isn’t Webby telling us?”

Mrs. Beakley was silent for a minute. She, too, was quivering in fury.

“We need to have a talk with her in the morning,” Mrs. Beakley said at last. “And I think we’ve shown Steelbeak far too much leniency.”


	6. Chapter 6

Webby awoke to discover Agent 22 standing over her bed. Webby’s first instinct was to grab her knives, the ones she’d secreted beneath her pillows, and point them at her adversary. Her heart pounded--how had she gotten in here? After all, she’d locked the door last night. 

“Webby! Put those _down_!” Mrs. Beakley snapped. “Honestly, am I going to have to lock them up?”

Movement caught her eye and she spied, out of the corner of her eye, her mother, Dewey, and Lena. What were they doing here? Had Agent 22 taken them hostage? No, that didn’t make sense. Mrs. Beakley was supposed to be a good guy. Webby was supposed to be safe here. None of that stopped her racing heart.

“Why are you here?” Webby asked, suspicious. “I know I locked my door last night. Unless someone left it open?”

At this, she threw a poisonous look at Lena. Lena shook her head. 

“Don’t look at me, pink,” Lena said. “You realize that Scrooge has all the keys to the rooms because this is _his _house, right?” 

Webby deflated. The illusion of privacy vanished. Simply because she had a door that would lock meant nothing if her grandmother and mother could barge in any time they wanted. That didn’t explain Dewey’s presence, though. Why was he here too? 

Reluctantly, she lowered the knives and returned them to their place beneath her pillow. Whatever had brought them here and prompted them to unlock her door, it couldn’t be good. 

“I promise I won’t enter your room again like this unless it’s an emergency, dear,” Mrs. Beakley said.

“Why are you here?” Webby repeated.

“Steelbeak told your mother about your back,” Mrs. Beakley said without preamble. Webby’s stomach dropped and she felt sick. The color drained from her face. Despite herself, she was shaking and couldn’t stop. On the plus side, Dewey and Lena clearly hadn’t broken their promise to her about telling her grandmother. On the other, she’d found out anyway.

“What about it?” Webby asked dully. 

“You’d better show them, pink,” Lena said warningly. Reluctantly, Webby nodded and, keeping the blankets about her front, raised her shirt. Wren swore and Mrs. Beakley growled, low and feral. Webby shuddered, quickly dropping her shirt back down as well as removing the blankets. She sprang to her feet, the knives back in her hands, and dropped into a low, offensive battle stance. 

“Is this why you were afraid of telling them?” Dewey said. She looked up into his eyes and then, against her better judgment, scanned the room. There was anger in Agent 22’s gaze, yes, but not aimed at Webby. Wren moved forward and plucked the knives out of Webby’s unresisting hands. 

“You’re going to stab someone one of these days,” Wren muttered. 

Webby straightened but kept her back to her bed in case she needed to make a sudden stand. 

“How long were you planning on keeping this a secret?” Mrs. Beakley demanded.

“How long were you planning on keeping me here until you decided to throw me back to FOWL?” Webby countered.

“Webby, your grandmother wouldn’t--” Dewey started and Mrs. Beakley held up a hand.

“While I appreciate your support, I can speak for myself,” Mrs. Beakley said and put a hand in a conciliatory manner on Dewey’s shoulder. She moved forward and knelt in front of Webby. Webby couldn’t help but notice that this put her at a disadvantage if they ended up sparring. Mrs. Beakley wouldn’t be able to rise from a crouch fast enough to attack or defend herself. Even as she thought that the last of her adrenaline faded away. She looked into her grandmother’s eyes and though the rage was still there, it was replaced by genuine concern. 

“Do you really think this is a temporary arrangement, Webby?” Mrs. Beakley queried in a soft tone.

“I don’t belong here,” Webby said and balled her fists. 

“You’re my granddaughter. I would no sooner send you back to FOWL than I would have laid myself at Black Heron’s mercy,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? Why...oh. You don’t trust me.”

“Pink, you’re _safe _here. They’re not gonna throw you out,” Lena said. Though she said it, Lena’s gaze shifted to the side and Webby felt a pang of a nameless emotion. Worry, maybe? Lena hid so much.

“We love you,” Mrs. Beakley said and placed both hands on Webby’s shoulders. “We care about you. I was upset about your back because the thought of someone hurting you is, well, infuriating. To think that your father not only _let _it happen but _encouraged _it…”

Mrs. Beakley’s eyes flashed.

“He...he encouraged it?” Webby said. She barely recognized her own voice. It was faint and thready. “He told me it was for training purposes, but, he...he _wanted _people to attack me?”

She was making herself vulnerable and exposing a weakness. At once, the mask fell over her features and she straightened up. Dewey frowned and she ignored him. She’d been too open for too long and this was the result. They swore they weren’t bringing her back to FOWL, but how could she trust them? They’d gone to see her father again behind her back. That made two nights in a row.

Webby shook her head. “He did it to toughen me up.”

“That brainwashing went really deep, didn’t it?” Lena said, asking no one in particular. She looked troubled.

“Unfortunately,” Mrs. Beakley said to Lena. To her granddaughter, she said, “That may have been what he claimed he was doing, but anyone who truly cared for you would not have put you into an unnecessary fight that could have seriously hurt you.”

Webby’s lower beak quivered and she put her hands on her hips. No, no more vulnerability. No more weakness. Warring with that was the knowledge that they cared about her or claimed that they did. She didn’t know who to believe. She trusted Dewey and Lena and Dewey trusted her grandmother. Was it because Dewey didn’t really know Agent 22? Or because he did? 

She sought him out and he stepped forward.

“This is your permanent home,” Dewey said softly. “You belong here, with us. It doesn’t matter what Steelbeak subjected you to or made you do. We don’t care about that--”

Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat.

“Okay, maybe we care about that a little,” he amended, “but it doesn’t mean we’re getting rid of you. It just means that we want to help you.”

“Like the therapist you won’t speak to,” Wren muttered.

“I would _never _dispose of you in any fashion,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Nor would anyone here.”

It wasn’t Webby’s imagination--her gaze lingered on Lena.

“Why is my back suddenly so important, anyway?” Webby said, attempting to change the subject so that the tension would ease out of the room. Dewey took her hands and she smiled at him. She remembered him kissing her and color rushed to her cheeks. 

“Why does it matter who attacked me?” Webby pressed.

“We didn’t want to tell you this,” Wren said and, judging by the look on Mrs. Beakley’s face, she was again speaking without conferring with her mother first, “but we believe someone from FOWL may not have your best interests at heart.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Lena said and Mrs. Beakley glared at her too.

“But why should anyone from FOWL care about me still? I’m gone,” Webby pointed out.

“And Steelbeak is no longer head of FOWL,” Wren said and then frowned. “Did he officially name you his successor?”

She started to shake her head and then groaned. “Yeah, he did.”

Mrs. Beakley and Wren exchanged alarmed glances and Wren pressed onward. “Who else knows?”

“I don’t know, a handful of people,” Webby said, growing uncomfortable again. “It’s not like Steelbeak could really trust anyone inside FOWL.”

“I swear the next time I see him, he’s going to be dangling by his arms in a very uncomfortable position for a very long time,” Mrs. Beakley snapped.

Webby’s eyes widened as it dawned on her what they weren’t saying. “Someone’s coming after me because Steelbeak’s not in control?”

The two older women exchanged a look and Webby’s nausea returned twofold. She fought the desire to rock back and forth, because that wasn’t going to help. Instead, she let Wren scoop her up and hug her. It was oddly comforting; Webby didn’t have much experience with someone else soothing her.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” Wren reassured her. 

“But we are going to have some words again with Steelbeak,” Mrs. Beakley snapped and then glared at her daughter. “Or I am. You are staying out of this, Wren.”

“But I can help--” Wren protested. The withering glare that Mrs. Beakley gave her dissuaded her from continuing that argument.

Webby felt cold all over and Wren rubbed her arms. Webby drew a deep, bracing breath to calm herself. It didn’t work. Wren cuddled her closer and rocked her back and forth. It reminded her of another time, before her kidnapping, when she’d had a nightmare and Mrs. Beakley had soothed her. She wrapped her arms about her mother.

“Shoosh,” Wren said. “Believe me, Mother will drag that information out of him one way or another.”

Every time she heard something new about her father, it cemented how bad of a person he was. She sighed, relaxing in her arms. Her mother kissed her temple and Webby soaked it in; she’d been touch-starved for too long. Lena touched her hand and Webby’s heart kicked up again. Lena smiled at her.

“It’s not as bad as you think, pink,” Lena said quietly, gently. “Besides, your grandmother and your mom know what they’re doing. Probably.”

“Probably,” Wren repeated with a small smile. “You really can’t pay anyone a compliment, can you, Lena?”

Lena shrugged. “Whatever.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Wren promised. She smoothed back Webby’s hair. “And this is your home for as long as you want it to be, Webby. No one is going to take it away from you. Do you understand?”

Reluctantly, Webby nodded. 

“Are you going over there now or later?” Wren queried her mother, releasing Webby.

“After breakfast, if Mr. McDuck doesn’t need me for something,” Mrs. Beakley said. “I should probably let you get dressed, Webby. And I am throwing these knives into a vault in Mr. McDuck’s office where only he has the key. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Granny,” Webby said. She’d find a way to procure them again or steal new ones. She was sure of it.

“Um…” Dewey said, perhaps spotting the telltale gleam in Webby’s eyes. “Maybe you should start locking up all the knives. Just in case.”

Mrs. Beakley sighed. “That may not be such a bad idea.”

Webby scowled. She knew they thought they were doing what was best for her and she’d been told before that carrying around knives made the boys feel uneasy, even if they made her feel better. Her shoulders slumped. The worst part of it wasn’t that she’d miss her knives, it was that she almost wanted her grandmother to take Steelbeak to task. He couldn’t keep getting away with things, could he? 

And who was after her, anyway? Did Steelbeak even know? He’d had so many enemies.

“You know,” Webby said softly as the two older ducks turned to leave, “I’m not very hungry.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Beakley said. “If you feel hungry later, dear, there’s food in the pantry.”

“And Uncle Donald’s locked in there again,” Dewey said, rolling his eyes. “So he can help you find stuff.”

“How does your uncle get locked in the pantry anyway?” Webby asked, curious.

“I have no idea,” Dewey admitted.

Webby attempted a smile that fell flat. The others all backed out of the room, Dewey with some nudging by Lena, and Webby closed the door after them. She sighed, resting against it. She didn’t feel like crying, but she did feel like screaming. It almost felt like everything she’d suffered meant nothing, not to Steelbeak.

Then what was the point of it all? Or had there even been a point? She didn’t know. Staring at herself in her mirror, she struck an offensive pose and attempted another smile. That, too, felt false. She sighed. Now that she was alone, she didn’t know what to do with herself. 

Deciding it was better to bite the bullet than to brood, she left her room after dressing. Maybe some good would come of this somehow. She just couldn’t see it yet.

* * *

McDuck Manor was impregnable compared to FOWL HQ. Then again, FOWL had been built with the assumption it was unassailable. McDuck Manor had been built with the notion that it _was _possible to crack its defenses and therefore, had planned accordingly. Sure, it could be breached--but he thought that the whole idea of attacking McDuck Manor was hackneyed and overdone, anyway. Besides, if he did that, how would Steelbeak hear of it but secondhand? That was no good.

No, he needed to break Steelbeak out and put him in a position where he could see that Webby was at risk. Unfortunately, storming SHUSH was also problematic. They weren’t liable to let Steelbeak go without a fight...but Wren might be there.

A cruel smile curved his lips. If he could get Wren, Steelbeak, and Webby in one shot, that would make it all worthwhile. Stretching in his seat, he switched to the cameras he had outside of the DPD station. They didn’t show anything interesting, lamentably. Ever since Steelbeak had ended up in SHUSH custody, he had nothing to gain by watching that camera.

And he had no cameras within McDuck Manor; he needed to figure out a way to slip surveillance there. He also needed to figure out how to ingratiate himself with them. 

A smile broadened his face. Children. The children were free to come and go as they pleased. That might suffice for an introduction. Now, where could he find a pliable, biddable child?

* * *

Webby sat on the edge of the pool and dipped her feet into the water. Beside her, the boys were complaining of boredom and she was tuning them out. She’d never had the luxury of being near a pool before, at least, not that she could recall. The bits and pieces she remembered had yet to assemble a full picture.

As she so often did, she let her mind wander. She still had that book she’d snuck into the house because she could. She could read. It was anti-social, but being social all the time was exhausting. She wasn’t used to the boys’ exuberance and, well, child-like behavior. In addition, she wasn’t used to being paid attention to except in a negative light. 

It was getting to be too much. She straightened up.

“Where are you going?” Dewey asked. 

“My room,” she said in a tone that indicated she didn’t want to be followed. Something about Dewey reminded her of Launchpad or vice versa. They wore their hearts on their sleeves. Dewey also had a high emotional IQ, as compared to his brothers.

“Are you okay? Did we say something wrong?” Dewey asked.

“No,” she said. In truth, she’d lost track of their conversation. 

“Are you okay?” Huey asked and she retreated.

“Fine,” Webby said, feeling unsteady. She held her hands up in a defensive gesture and felt their gazes upon her. They seemed to rake her frame, but she knew that was her imagination. She balled her fists, unconsciously reaching for her knives before remembering that her grandmother had confiscated them. No, she wasn’t being threatened. They were worried about her. It took a minute for her conscious mind to catch up with her fear of attack.

“You don’t look fine,” Louie said.

“I’m not used to being around people,” she explained. “I mean, yeah, there were _people _at FOWL, but they didn’t care about me. They didn’t talk to me unless they were insulting me, ordering me around, or pushing me around physically. The only people who spoke to me on a regular basis were the cook, the cook’s assistant, Steelbeak, and Black Heron.”

“That must’ve been lonely,” Huey remarked.

“It was,” she said quietly. “Very lonely.”

“So...we’re here now,” Dewey said and grabbed her hand. “We’re here and we’re not going anywhere. So tell us what’s wrong.”

Webby gazed down at the pool for a minute before looking back up at the boys. They were so earnest, so trusting. Well, except for Louie, but she got him. They actually cared about her and didn’t pretend to in order to use her.

She squeezed Dewey’s hand.

“It’s my back,” Webby said. Huey and Louie looked perplexed.

“Your back?” Huey repeated.

“Webby showed me and Lena earlier,” Dewey said. “The FOWL operatives did a number on her back. She thought Steelbeak wasn’t encouraging it.”

“Woah,” Louie said and studied her carefully. “Man, that place must’ve sucked.”

“It’s what I knew,” Webby said with a shrug. “What I know.”

“You’re not seriously considering going back, are you?” Huey asked as if the decision were in her hands and hers alone. Webby frowned.

“Steelbeak’s not there to protect me,” she said. 

“I’m not really sure he protected you, to begin with, Webs,” Dewey said.

“I mean that I’m already a target for FOWL,” she answered. “And...I don’t really want to go back, no. I…”

She flushed, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “I like it here.”

She looked back up at them. “It keeps making me think that something is lurking just around the corner because everyone’s so nice. It’s hard to believe there’s a whole other world out there that doesn’t suck.”

“Then why are you so worried about what happened in the past?” Huey asked. He frowned too. “Wait, what did you mean, ‘you’re already a target for FOWL’? You left FOWL.”

“They’re not done with me,” Webby admitted. “My mother told me that someone sent Steelbeak a message saying that he can’t protect me anymore.”

The boys exchanged uneasy looks.

“I promise, Webby,” Dewey said and hugged her, “we’re not gonna let them take you away.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Louie snorted. “No offense, Webs.”

“None taken,” she said. She hugged Dewey back briefly and he released her. She stretched her hands out and Huey and, to her surprise, Louie, took her other hand. She gazed at him in shock.

“We’re your friends,” Huey said. “And we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you. Not again. Not if we can help it.”

“But you’re just children,” she protested.

“So are you,” Louie reminded her. “Besides...we’ve faced long odds before. And you’re the crazy, super-strong wildcard.”

Webby beamed at him and it was his turn to be shocked. He gaped back. She didn’t often smile at him. Or acknowledge him, because their relationship seemed to be tense at best.

“Right, so...how would we even know they’re coming?” Dewey asked. “Do they have, like, a Bat-signal?”

“A Bat-signal?” she repeated, cocking her head curiously at him. “What’s that?”

“You grew up without Batman?” Louie exclaimed.

“She probably grew up without any superhero influences, because of where she was,” Huey theorized. 

“I know of Darkwing Duck,” she admitted. “But...nothing positive.”

“Yeah, okay, but Darkwing Duck is real,” Dewey pointed out. “And so is Gizmoduck.”

“Again, I didn’t hear about him in the most glowing of terms either.”

“This is beside the point,” Huey said. “I don’t think FOWL is going to contact you prior to making a move unless they intend to use Steelbeak as an intermediary. But in order to do that, they’d have to ensure that he was nearby when they attacked you.”

A chill went down her spine. 

“Maybe we ought to go find Mrs. B,” Dewey suggested and they broke off to dash into the manor. They found Duckworth floating around, but Mrs. Beakley was gone. It took Webby a second to recollect that she’d gone to the SHUSH hideout to speak with Steelbeak. Wren wasn’t in the house and Scrooge had locked his door to conduct business. That left one adult--Donald. Webby barely knew Donald Duck and wasn’t sure he was the best person to confide in.

Besides, she wasn’t one of his brood. Why should he care what befell her?

The boys searched the hallways until they located their uncle. Webby hung back, wishing Lena hadn’t departed that morning. She could’ve used the support.

“Kids?” Donald said.

“We think FOWL is after Webby and Steelbeak and might be breaking Steelbeak out of jail right now to attack Webby,” Dewey blurted out.

“What?” Donald said. Webby wasn’t sure whether he hadn’t gotten the whole thing or if Dewey wasn’t making enough sense. It could’ve been both.

Huey held up a hand. “Steelbeak received a message warning him that someone intended to strike against Webby. We theorized that that person would want Steelbeak to be able to see what he’d done and to facilitate that…”

Donald clenched his jaw. “I see.”

“And you’re also the only adult left in the house,” Louie added.

“We’re going over to the SHUSH hideout,” Donald proclaimed.

“We don’t know where it is,” Louie pointed out.

“Then we’ll call Agent 22--I mean, Granny--and warn her,” Webby said. Donald nodded and eyed her in a strange way, almost like he felt compassionate toward her. It was unnerving.

“You’ll be fine,” Donald reassured her. “Anyone who comes near the manor is in for a rude awakening.”

“As long as that someone isn’t us…” Louie muttered. 

“It won’t be…” Huey said and then paused. “I hope.”

“Yeah, really reassuring, Huey,” Louie snapped.

Dewey held Webby’s hand. “It’ll be _fine_.”


	7. Chapter 7

Wren struggled with a semi-conscious Steelbeak. She wasn’t supposed to have been at the SHUSH hideout at all, she’d promised her mother she wouldn’t go near him, but after her mother had left, someone had bombed the hideout. She’d narrowly managed to grab Steelbeak before the whole structure collapsed. Of course, she had her suspicions as to who might have done it, but she wasn’t thinking about that right now. 

The only places she could think to take him would put her in danger, but the second place was unacceptable, as it was McDuck Manor. That meant she needed to bring him to her hideout, to which Webby had never been. What bothered her more now was that Steelbeak was so damnably heavy when he was semi-conscious and she had to lug his pathetic carcass from the car up the steps to her apartment. Of course, her apartment was on the third floor, which meant dragging him up two flights of steps.

She sure hoped he wasn’t feigning unconsciousness because if he was, she was going to toss him out a window. Maybe she should’ve listened to her mother and let her put him in a gulag. It was certainly no more than he deserved after what he’d let happen to Webby. 

She also hated the idea of keeping Steelbeak in her personal space. For multiple reasons, she’d tried to avoid being one on one with him after her disastrous one-night stand/date rape. She didn’t trust herself around him. She knew she was attracted to him; she’d always found smarmy bastards attractive, damn it. And because he’d raped her, she feared his power over her. Part of her had always blamed herself for the incident and she feared its repetition.

Finally, she reached her apartment, unlocked the door, and decided to hell with it. She left Steelbeak in a heap on the floor while she locked the door behind her and checked her phone messages. As a general rule, she didn’t carry a cell phone on her and only used a landline. Cell phones could be hacked and besides, they could also be tracked. Wren didn’t need that additional complication--heaven knew she had enough trouble.

She had stepped over Steelbeak into her tiny kitchen with its cordless line and frowned at the blinking messages. Then she looked through the equally small window onto the fire escape. The sun was just rising. She’d been out all night when she’d promised her mother that one, she wouldn’t be, and two, that she’d keep an eye on Webby. She’d failed on both accounts. Those messages were probably angry voicemails from Mrs. Beakley. She was not in a hurry to listen to them.

And how much angrier would her mom be once she discovered she’d basically kidnapped Steelbeak? Wren felt like banging her head into a wall. Maybe it’d help to clarify things. 

Groaning, Wren stepped over Steelbeak again and walked into the diminutive bathroom. She stared at herself in the cracked mirror and groaned, leaning over the sink. 

“Well, Wren, you’re well and truly screwed this time,” she informed her reflection. “Not to mention you disappointed your daughter without even trying. Again.”

Wren sighed, spinning around to put the sink at her back, and then, rethinking it, splashed her face with cold water. The apartment was so small that it almost made her think of her quarters in FOWL. She didn’t miss them, but she did miss being able to sneak into Webby’s room at night and attempt to comfort her in her sleep. Webby had been loved, even then, even if she didn’t know it.

Despite how Webby had come about, Wren couldn’t help but love her daughter. And she was privately grateful that she’d killed Black Heron. Heaven knew Wren had come close to it herself. Of course, killing Black Heron hadn’t been healthy for Webby’s psyche and not cooperating with the therapist was equally damaging. But how could they expect her to open up to a total stranger when she wouldn’t open up to her family? Or even her friends?

“Well, this is new,” Steelbeak called and Wren cursed, racing out of the bathroom and into the hall. There wasn’t far to go and she collided into Steelbeak’s massive chest. Hissing, she pulled back, preferring not to touch him.

“If you wanted me over, you could’ve just asked,” he continued.

“You don’t remember the explosion,” Wren asked flatly. “Or being dragged halfway across Duckburg. Or up the stairs.”

“That might explain why my head hurts,” Steelbeak replied. He sat up, rubbing his temples. “You saved me? I’m flattered.”

“You’re more valuable to me alive than dead. Don’t flatter yourself,” Wren spat. She decided the best policy was to ignore him and grabbed the cordless phone off the counter to listen to her voicemail. How pathetic is it that she was trying to escape Steelbeak by listening to her mother? Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Where have you been?” Mrs. Beakley demanded in a voicemail. Wren wondered whether she misunderstood the concept of leaving messages. Her mother continued to harangue her for a solid minute--typical British crap. Wren tuned it out. She had experience in that.

“So, when are you planning on telling your mom that you’re shacking up with me?” Steelbeak asked, hopping onto a barstool near the counter by the phone. He laughed and she resisted the temptation to fling the phone in his face.

The phone rang again and this time, with trepidation, Wren answered.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?!” Mrs. Beakley demanded and unlike before, this wasn’t a recording she could delete at leisure. “You’ve been gone all night!”

“Didn’t you know? Someone attacked the SHUSH hideout,” Wren said and stifled a yawn. “I had to get Steelbeak out of there before he died.”

“And where is he now?” Mrs. Beakley asked and Wren groaned, facepalming.

“You are not gonna like it.”

“Where is he, Wren?” 

“He’s sitting in my kitchen.”

She waited for the inevitable explosion. Sure enough, it arrived right on time.

“He’s _what_?! I told you not to go near him, not drag him into your apartment! What is wrong with you? You should know better!”

“Hey, can I help it? I’m charming,” Steelbeak called. “Besides, maybe she wanted to make up for the lost time.”

“You lay one finger on my daughter and I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life,” Mrs. Beakley snarled. 

“How do you know it wouldn’t be consensual?” Steelbeak countered. “I mean, why--”

He didn’t get to finish. Wren grabbed a frying pan and slammed it down on his head. It dented the pan, but it also achieved what she’d wanted. Steelbeak fell off the stool and crashed onto the floor. Wren panted, throwing away the cooking implement.

“Oh, Wren…” Mrs. Beakley said softly, sadly. “I’ll be right there.”

“No, wait, Mother, it’s okay,” Wren pleaded. “I can handle it.”

“You just knocked him out with a frying pan. I heard the clang. You are not equipped to handle this. Plus...I don’t want him alone with you. I don’t trust him not to hurt you again.”

Wren felt frustrated tears swim to the surface. “It was one time, Mother.”

“And one time is more than enough.”

Wren swallowed past a lump in her throat. She’d disappointed her mother by laying Webby’s egg and she’d fled before Webby’s hatching for that very reason. She was a failure as a SHUSH operative. She’d spent years reclaiming her title and trying to restore her dignity. Now she felt like she was a teenager again, freshly ruined in her mother’s eyes.

“I’ll be right there,” Mrs. Beakley promised and hung up, leaving her daughter with the dial tone and an unconscious villain on her floor. Wren put her head in her hands. It would take her mother a good fifteen minutes to get here, even if Launchpad drove like a maniac, which he might. Fifteen minutes was enough time to cry, bind Steelbeak, and let herself feel wretched before her mother showed up. 

Her mother and, oh God, how was she going to explain this to Webby? Webby had a right to know, after all. She picked up the frying pan and whacked Steelbeak over the head with it again for good measure. Maybe that’d cause him to remain unconscious longer. Or give him a concussion and make him easier to work with. Either one was acceptable.

For a moment, she let her mind drift, wondering whether she would’ve let Steelbeak seduce her when she was in possession of her full faculties. She didn’t think so, but she also didn’t trust herself not to make another stupid decision like she had that night. Shaking her head at herself, she looked for binding tools, found zip-ties, and bound Steelbeak’s ankles and wrists. Once that was finished, she crashed back onto the barstool and ran her fingers through her already disheveled hair. Well, things couldn’t possibly get worse, could they? 

Wait, what was she saying? They could get worse. They could always get worse.

* * *

Mrs. Beakley was already concerned after what she’d heard from Donald. She hated that Steelbeak had made it public knowledge that Webby was his heir. It painted an even larger target on her back than she’d already had. It also made sense why someone would want to knock her out. With Steelbeak out of commission, he might appoint her. It’d be foolish in the extreme, but Steelbeak hadn’t shown a proclivity towards reasonableness.

She arrived at Wren’s apartment to find Steelbeak tied so tightly that she was surprised the villain could breathe. The ropes dug into his feathers, too, and he looked like a chicken trussed up for dinner. Mrs. Beakley couldn’t conceal a snicker. Steelbeak was conscious now, with a massive lump on his head (undoubtedly from Wren’s attacks), and he glared at her. She smirked back.

Wren stepped out from the kitchen with a frying pan in her hands. Mrs. Beakley raised her eyebrows. Judging by the pan’s dents and blood on the back, it was the offending instrument.

“How could I possibly pose a threat to you like this?” Steelbeak objected, eyes focusing with difficulty on her daughter.

“I’ve heard of taking precautions, my dear, but I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere in that state,” Mrs. Beakley said and offered her daughter a warm smile. Though she still was upset with her for absconding for all of those years, she understood the reasoning behind it now. It was hard to reconcile their separation and Mrs. Beakley had always felt like she’d made overtures towards her daughter that were not well received. She had been closer to Webby before Steelbeak had abducted her and started this whole fiasco. Again, she ached for the last nearly seven years that she and Webby had been apart.

“I wanted to make sure,” Wren said, sounding like a petulant child. She huffed. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

“You know, you brought me here,” Steelbeak snapped. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“And you didn’t have to put your hands on my daughter at that soiree,” Mrs. Beakley countered. “And yet, here we are.”

He groaned, blinking again in a sad attempt to focus his gaze upon them. It failed and he desisted.

“Where’s Webby?” he asked as if Mrs. Beakley might be concealing her beneath her skirts.

“Back at the manor, where she’s safe,” Mrs. Beakley retorted. “What were you thinking, naming her as heir?”

“She’d have made a good heir once that stupid ‘compassion’ was beaten out of her,” Steelbeak commented. Wren growled and tightened her grip on the frying pan. Mrs. Beakley put up a hand to stop her, though her eyes narrowed.

“That ‘compassion’ was what prompted her to rescue the boys and make the right decision,” Mrs. Beakley retorted. “It is what kept you from completely destroying her.”

He shrugged, unperturbed. “She’d make a good leader if she were completely ruthless. She has the potential for it. I know you’ve seen it.”

Mrs. Beakley didn’t condescend to answer; Wren narrowed her eyes too. They weren’t going to let him realize that he’d scored a point. Of course, their silence spoke for them.

“And that’s what disturbs you so much,” he concurred with a cruel grin. “Because you know I’m right.”

“He can’t stay here,” Mrs. Beakley said, ignoring him altogether. “We need to take him somewhere secure. Like the Money Bin. Or McDuck Manor.”

“He can’t stay at McDuck Manor,” Wren objected. “Webby.”

“Are you afraid I’ll unduly influence our daughter?” Steelbeak sneered.

Mrs. Beakley pretended that she didn’t hear him. He wanted to provoke a response, which was why they didn’t respond. Let him suffer. 

“We can keep him in the Other Bin,” Mrs. Beakley said. 

“Has Webby broken in there yet?” Wren queried, frowning. “I know you put her blades in a secure location, even if she manages to keep stealing them back.”

Steelbeak snickered. “She doesn’t like going unarmed. She feels naked without her weapons.”

“Don’t--” Mrs. Beakley warned Wren, who looked like she was about to interject. Wren swallowed back whatever she’d been about to say.

“We’ll bring him to the Other Bin,” Wren agreed and then, for good measure, clobbered him with the frying pan again. Mrs. Beakley raised her eyebrows.

“Was that really necessary?” she queried.

“I don’t know, but it sure made me feel better,” Wren admitted.

Mrs. Beakley sighed. If she’d had a nose bridge, she would’ve pinched it. On the plus side, she’d knocked Steelbeak out, which meant no more smarmy comments on Webby’s conditioning. The man was singularly infuriating.

“I took the limo here. We can drag him toward it,” Mrs. Beakley said. She meant it literally. Grabbing some rope, she let Steelbeak’s head thud against the floor when they approached the threshold. Wren raised her eyebrows at her.

“And you’re the one lecturing me about knocking him about?” Wren asked, offended.

“Unnecessary,” Mrs. Beakley corrected with an impish grin. “If he just happens to hit his head on the stairs, on the doorway, and on the door, well, he’s just clumsy, isn’t he?”

Wren stared at her for a beat and then burst out laughing. “I have missed you, Mother.”

Mrs. Beakley’s smile grew more genuine. “I’ve missed you too. Come on, let’s get this waste of perfectly good oxygen into the limo. And hope Launchpad doesn’t ask too many questions.”

Wren groaned. 

As they reached the curbside, Mrs. Beakley kept a mental tally of how many times she’d battered Steelbeak. Right now, they were up to twelve. Should she make it an even fifteen? Or should she stop, wary of scrambling his brains further? She hoisted him into the backseat and Launchpad gawked at them. For some inexplicable reason, Wren blushed scarlet and ducked her head. No, Mrs. Beakley didn’t want to know.

“Mrs. B?” Launchpad asked quizzically.

“Don’t ask,” she advised. “Straight back to McDuck Manor, Launchpad.”

“Is he okay?” Launchpad queried. 

Mrs. Beakley suppressed a sigh. Leave it to Launchpad to care what happened to a villain. She shook her head slightly. “He’ll be fine. Shall we?”

Wren was making herself small in the back of the backseat.

“Hi, Wren!” Launchpad said brightly and Wren groaned. 

“Making friends?” Mrs. Beakley teased and Wren moaned, face in her hands.

“Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask,” Wren pleaded.

“What’s wrong?” Launchpad said. “All I said was ‘hello’.”

“Heaven help us, Duckburg’s Jack Harkness,” Mrs. Beakley muttered. 

Launchpad looked blank and she sighed. She hadn’t expected him to get the reference. Rolling her eyes, she buckled herself in and ensured that Steelbeak was secure, as well as Wren. True, with all of those ropes binding him, she’d be shocked if he managed to escape, but Wren’s wariness was catchy.

“Roll up the divider,” Mrs. Beakley said before Launchpad had a chance to start a convivial conference. “Now.”

Once he was safely behind his divider and the car started, Mrs. Beakley surveyed her daughter. “How did you survive being in such close proximity to him for all of these years?”

“I wasn’t that close to him, personally,” Wren pointed out. “I was a general servant. FOWL members often found excuses to make me run odious errands. On occasion, I was able to get to Webby or warn Black Heron off her, but the latter never worked for longer and I couldn’t linger with the former or she’d get ideas.”

Wren bit the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she’d had since she was a child. “I tried to keep an eye on Webby, Mother. I tried to keep her safe, but there wasn’t much I could do without blowing my cover.”

“I know,” Mrs. Beakley said and smoothed her daughter’s bob back. “I don’t blame you.”

“I should’ve done something earlier. I should’ve taken her out,” Wren protested, shaking her head. “I knew he was doing horrendous things to her and I didn’t stop him.”

“You couldn’t have stood against all of FOWL,” Mrs. Beakley pointed out.

“Do you think she hates me?” Wren whispered.

Mrs. Beakley’s smile was humorless. “She likes you better than she likes me, but I’m not certain that’s a compliment, considering.”

Steelbeak stirred and Mrs. Beakley kicked him in the side, hard enough to leave a bruise or two. He groaned but remained unconscious. Or, perhaps, he wisely chose not to reveal he was conscious if that was the case.

They arrived at the mansion and Launchpad carried Steelbeak over his shoulders as if he were a bag of potatoes. Mrs. Beakley directed him toward the Other Bin and she dumped him there. Once she exited the warehouse, she came face to face with Webby and the boys. Webby was dancing from foot to foot in agitation.

“We’re all right,” Mrs. Beakley said, though she sensed that wasn’t what Webby was disconcerted about.

Wren came up behind her and, nudging her mother aside, scooped Webby up into her arms. She cuddled her close and Mrs. Beakley saw that Wren was shaking. Was she scared for herself or for Webby? 

“You are not to go into The Other Bin under any circumstances,” Mrs. Beakley ordered. “Do you understand me?”

“Where have you been?” Huey asked. “You smell like smoke.”

This last he directed at Wren.

“And why are you holding a bloody frying pan?” Huey continued.

Webby slid out of her mother’s arms and studied the frying pan, her mother’s face, and then her grandmother. Mrs. Beakley gazed steadfastly back. Webby was intimidating in her own right and she tried not to think about how Steelbeak had groomed her or what she might’ve been like if they hadn’t gotten to her when they had.

“Did you check on Steelbeak?” Webby pressed.

“We did,” Wren said and the two adults exchanged glances.

“That’s why…” Webby trailed off. “That’s it, isn’t it? He’s here.”

Dewey grabbed Webby before she thought to dart off. Mrs. Beakley wasn’t so sure that she would. It would be the first time she’d come face to face with her father since the chip incident. Whatever complicated feelings Webby had for Steelbeak, she bore a grudge about the chip altering her personality and memories. 

“No, you may not see him,” Mrs. Beakley said, forestalling any argument. 

Webby frowned, but, to her surprise, didn’t question her. Mrs. Beakley wasn’t foolish enough to think that the conversation was over. Temporarily curtailed, maybe, but far from over.

“I wanted to talk to you, Mom,” Webby said.

“Oh?” Wren said. She looked hopeful and Mrs. Beakley prayed that Webby wasn’t about to dash those hopes to the ground.

“Yes,” Webby said. “I remembered something earlier.”

“If it was before you were five, then it was your grandmother, not me…” Wren said uncertainly.

“No, it was in FOWL HQ,” Webby replied. “I think...I think I was sick and you nursed me to health.”

Wren beamed, effusive in her gratitude for Webby’s recollection. “Yes. That was me.”

Webby turned a shy smile back on her mother and Mrs. Beakley couldn’t suppress a smile too.

“See? You weren’t as alone in FOWL as you thought,” Dewey said. His arm was about Webby’s shoulders now. “And you’re not alone now. We’ve got you.”

“What happened?” Webby queried the adults. She smiled at the boys in turn too. 

Grimacing, Mrs. Beakley caught her up to speed. As soon as Steelbeak awoke, he was going to be a nuisance. Maybe they could keep him drugged up until he indicated he was willing to work with them. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

* * *

“Why haven’t you gotten the dime yet?” Magica hissed at her ‘niece’. They were standing in the amphitheater again and, admittedly, Lena was stalling. She knew all about Webby’s troubles, which was why she was stalling. She wasn’t eager to betray her, although Magica’s influence grew with every passing day. As time went on, she was capable of possessing her for longer stretches. It terrified Lena and Magica promised that she’d be rewarded with her freedom—but only if she did what she said.

“Maybe I could get it if you weren’t constantly on my back about it,” Lena said and her excuse fell flat. Even a shadow could roll its eyes and Magica did, as if incredulous that her ‘niece’ could be stupid enough to think that excuse would work.

“Your ‘friend’ can help you. Use her to get the dime and then I will think about teaching you how to protect her against FOWL.”

That was a generous offer, too generous. Lena was immediately suspicious. “What’s the catch?”

Magica smiled broadly. “No catch. Whatever makes you think I’d trick you?”

“I dunno—human nature?” Lena shot back.

“Get the dime and you will have your freedom,” Magica said. “And then we can part ways gladly. Isn’t that what you want? To spend all your precious time with your stupid little Webster?”

“She’ll never trust me after I’m done,” Lena protested and her stomach churned. She felt sick, but that was no surprise. Over the last few days, her nausea had increased tenfold. She was constantly too ill to eat as if her nerves had had enough of her and were attempting to buck her.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? You just worry about getting the dime, hmm?” Magica crooned.

Lena muttered something that she hoped was too low for Magica to catch, but it was hardly complimentary. 

“What was that, you ungrateful brat?” Magica snarled.

“Nothing, nothing,” Lena said, sighing. “I’ll get your stupid dime. Just leave Webby alone, okay? Maybe there’s a way I can smooth things over with her, get her to forgive me. I just need to figure out how.”

“Why do you care so much about what the pink one thinks? She’ll never return your feelings.”

The words were like a blow to the chest. For a second, Lena forgot how to breathe. Magica knew. The world had gone to hell because Magica de Spell knew her weakness. She’d thought she’d been clever enough to evade her notice, but evidently not. Lena fell to her knees and spat up bile. She was shaking.

“Oh, yes, I know the sting of a broken heart,” Magica said. Despite her words, she was relishing Lena’s misery. Tears pricked her eyes and she repeated her mantra, the one that had gotten through the last few nights. _I’m not Magica. I’ll never be Magica. I’m her shadow, but that doesn’t mean I have to do everything she does._

_I care about Webby. She doesn’t. _

_Oh god, Webby is never going to forgive me, is she?_

“You’re not very subtle,” Magica continued. “And besides, the pink brat has her own problems. Why should she pay the slightest attention to yours?”

With a heavy heart, Lena pushed herself to her feet. She needed to eat something—even magical constructs required energy and sustenance. Without it, she was growing weak and shaky. It also made it easier for Magica to possess her and then complain about how feeble her ‘niece’ was.

“Now, are you done moping? Steal the dime!”

“Yes, Aunt Magica,” Lena said through gritted teeth. This time, she wouldn’t fail. And this time, the world would go to hell in a handbasket.


	8. Chapter 8

Wren had promised to be there tonight to help with Webby’s nightmares. With Steelbeak in the Other Bin, all tied up nice and secure, Mrs. Beakley didn’t foresee any future difficulties. Webby still wanted to see her father, but she hadn’t brought it up recently. She didn’t think it would help to mention it—if anything, it’d just make things worse in the long run. 

She had questions for him that demanded answers, namely what he’d been thinking implanting that chip in her head. The sad thing was that she could figure out for herself what he’d intended, but she kept hoping she was wrong. She kept hoping that somehow, there was something redeemable about him. Morose, Webby had secreted herself away in the Other Bin; she hadn’t figured out the filing system yet, so she was in the vast cavernous warehouse with Dewey. 

Dewey had been leery about going into the Other Bin with her and Lena had originally come with them, but they’d lost her somewhere. It would have bothered Webby more if they hadn’t gotten lost themselves. Webby figured that eventually, they’d all find their way out. There was no service in the Other Bin, which meant neither girl could call and give the other directions, even if they knew where they were.

“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” Dewey said, grimacing. “How do you even know where to look? And why would they confine him here? It’s mostly inanimate objects.”

“And sword horses,” Webby said absently. “Beautiful, beautiful sword horses.”

Dewey had accompanied her for the love of adventure and, more importantly, because he wanted to be near her. She’d been on edge for the last few days thanks to Steelbeak’s machinations. She also hadn’t been sleeping. Every time she closed her eyes, FOWL HQ’s nightmares played behind her eyelids. Four days was a long time go without sufficient sleep and, as a result, she wasn’t quite steady on her feet. She’d get through this; she wanted to say she’d suffered worse in FOWL, but she was pretty sure exhaustion had taken its toll earlier.

“Sword horses?” Dewey repeated.

“You know. Unicorns.”

“Yeah, but, Webby, no one calls them that. Sword horses, I mean.”

Webby shrugged. She’d located her daggers, but she had them concealed to keep Dewey from freaking out. She liked being around him and found his presence comforting. Therefore, she’d do her utmost not to make him regret following along.

They stopped in front of a likely looking door and Dewey opened it. He poked his head inside.

“That’s weird—there’s nothing but an old dream catcher here,” Dewey remarked and frowned. “It’s just floating in midair.”

“Huh?” Webby said. It sparked a memory, but the memory was too faded to help. They peered at the dream catcher and then pitched headfirst out of the Other Bin and straight into FOWL HQ. 

* * *

Magica laughed when she saw Dewey’s and Webby’s unconscious forms. The sound sent chills down Lena’s spine.

“Oh, this is going to be far easier than I thought it would be,” she exulted. “They’re down for the count.”

“It’s magic,” Lena said, frowning and kneeling by Webby. She was whimpering and Lena’s heart wrenched.

“Of course it is, you idiot,” Magica hissed. “They are not your concern. Find the dime and never mind them. You can go back for them.”

Lena knew she was lying, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. With Magica riding her, her only option was to seize the dime and hope there was a way to free herself. She wanted to tell Webby (and Dewey), but she was so afraid of betraying her best friend that the words wouldn’t come. 

Family was supposed to help you, not hold you hostage. And Webby knew that lesson all too well. Lena hadn’t moved. She didn’t know if she could leave Webby anguished like this. The dream catcher reminded her of a malevolent pyramid with a single, glowing, demonic eye.

The next thing she knew, she was watching from outside herself as Magica seized control of her body and left Webby and Dewey in the dust. Lena howled in her mind, as there was no other place for her to object or curse Magica, which she did. 

They would be okay. They had to be okay. There was no alternative. _Please be okay_.

* * *

Webby found herself beside Dewey in Steelbeak’s office. Puzzled, she helped Dewey to his feet and turned around. The office had changed since she’d last seen it. Instead of Steelbeak’s picture everywhere, there were books, files, and notes atop a table and what she’d always wanted, a conspiracy board. The wooden plaque bearing his name was gone too. Dewey hadn’t spoken and she assumed he was taking the room in too.

On the wall behind her was Black Heron’s laser cannon arm and Webby frowned. That was rather macabre. She glanced down at herself as movement caught her eye; she was wearing her knives, but her outfit had changed. Instead of the pink skirt, purple shirt, and the pink sweater she favored, along with her pink bow, she wore all black. 

The room had subtle differences too, things she would’ve chosen instead of her father, such as pit traps in the floor, weapons concealed in the walls, and her daggers had poisoned tips. She caressed the hilts absently, unable to shake the feeling something was off. Dewey’s eyes widened and he was staring at her now as if he’d never seen her before. 

“Webby?” he asked. There was her Quacky Patch doll on her desk and full of holes. It was pinned to the desk by a dagger. Chills went down her spine. 

“Where are we?” Dewey asked. Webby’s throat was too tight to answer. 

The door opened before her, opposite the desk, and she thrust Dewey behind her. It was Steelbeak and he grinned at her. Her stomach somersaulted; his good humor was never a positive sign. His good humor with Dewey in the room even less so. She knew he loathed the boys, Dewey in particular. Dewey was too close to her. 

“How’s my new favorite boss?” Steelbeak teased. “You know I’m not gonna let you run things forever, right? You need to outwit me first; until then, you’re on probation. But I’m sure that won’t be any trouble. You already killed Agent 22.”

“...what?” Webby whispered, her voice barely audible. Dewey stepped out from behind her and she thrust him back again. The boy would not stand still. She was agitated too, but she was trying to hide it. 

“You’re the apprentice--it’s only a taste of the power you’ll hold,” Steelbeak said and grabbed Dewey, yanking him away from her. Webby grabbed onto Dewey’s arm and her pulse pounded. 

“Leave him alone,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Leave. Him. Alone. Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare hurt him.”

“Webby, what’s going on?” Dewey said. Steelbeak tugged harder on Dewey’s other arm and Webby wanted to attack Steelbeak for laying his fingers on him. 

“You mean like I did his brothers?” Steelbeak crooned. “They’ll be reunited soon enough. It’s duck hunting season, Webbigail. But only male ducks, so don’t worry. Male ducks and shadows.”

“Shadows?” 

Webby didn’t have time to parse that as Steelbeak pulled a gun out and pressed it to Dewey’s temple. Webby’s beak quivered and she swallowed past a lump in her throat. She lunged forward, desperate to keep him from suffering the same fate as his brothers, the fate that she’d condemned Huey and Louie to. None of it made any sense. Steelbeak snickered, tugging Dewey out of her reach and pressing down on the trigger, not far enough to propel a bullet, but close enough. Webby’s heart was in her throat.

“Leave him alone!” she said and her heart clenched. “It’s me you want, not him.”

“You know that ‘secret heart’ of yours?” Steelbeak sneered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switch. “You’re gonna be the one to pull the trigger.”

“No!” The cry was ripped out of her and she was shaking now, sweat trickling down her back. “I’d never hurt him!”

She still didn’t know what he’d meant by ‘open season on shadows’, but she sensed it had something to do with Lena or her shadow aunt. She wasn’t sure which.

“I’m not really liking where this is going…” Dewey said. “And I’m really confused.”

_Join the club._

Steelbeak pushed the switch and it was like before, that sudden jolt into emotionlessness. Her memories faded and Dewey became nothing more than an obstacle to her true objective, which was ruling FOWL. Steelbeak handed over the gun and she pulled the trigger without hesitation or remorse. As Dewey fell backward, she felt nothing, not even satisfaction as Steelbeak came up to her and embraced her. 

“The legacy is secure,” Steelbeak crooned. 

* * *

“Have you guys been lying here this whole time?” Huey objected. He’d had to shake Dewey rather hard to rouse him and ditto for Webby. Webby still didn’t look like she comprehended the situation. She swayed and when her eyes settled on the boys, she cried out and tried to hug all three at once. She was shaking.

“You’re not dead!” Webby cried. 

“Pretty sure I’m not,” Louie said. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“It was a dreamcatcher that was floating above you,” Huey indicated, pointing at the offending object, which he then shut the door on. “My guess is it sucked you into a dream...or a nightmare, judging by how you two were screaming.”

“You’re crying…” Dewey said, thumbing away her tears.

“Where’s Lena?” Webby said, ignoring her tears and the subsequent attempts to muffle sobs. “She was right here, wasn’t she?”

“I don’t know…” Huey said, frowning. “We haven’t seen her.”

That struck him as ominous somehow. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t she be around here somewhere?” Louie said. 

“Then again, it’s not like any of us have a map,” Huey reminded him. 

Dewey rubbed his temples. “I don’t know. I just wanna get out of here. Webby, are you sure you’re okay?”

Webby swallowed, tempted to tell him she was fine to get him off her case. But something stopped her. It wasn’t that he expected her to tell the truth, because she doubted he did. It was that she trusted he wouldn’t blab her secrets or hurt her with them. She looked up at them earnestly.

“I’m not okay,” she admitted. Her beak quivered and she looked down. The boys surrounded her and hugged her. 

“It’s okay to tell us when you’re upset,” Dewey said. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she replied. “Any of you.”

Especially not Dewey, but she wasn’t going to say that and besides, he already knew. 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Huey proclaimed and her beak twitched, but she couldn’t muster a smile. Something else was very wrong elsewhere. She could feel it and, after growing up in a villain’s lair, she had learned to trust her instincts. Unfortunately, none of them knew where the exit was. Or did they?

“You’ve been tracking our path since you got here, haven’t you?” Webby said to Louie.

“Maybe,” Louie said. “Look, someone has to keep an eye on things. And I’m sick of being called Captain Lost.”

“Captain Lost, Captain Lost!” Huey and Dewey chorused. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” Webby said.

“You kinda had to be there,” Dewey said. 

“Just follow me,” Louie said, grimacing and shaking his head. As he led the way out, his siblings continued cheering “Captain Lost” until she thought surely, Louie was going to snap and let them have it. He bore the teasing, though not with particular good will. She sensed he’d get them back for this when they least expected it. He was, after all, the “evil” triplet.

“Okay...that’s weird,” Louie said when they came upon the exit. 

“What’s weird?” Huey asked.

“We have no shadows…” Webby said, staring down and following Louie’s gaze. 

“How can we have no shadows?” Dewey said, baffled.

“I don’t know,” Webby said. She was also perturbed that the door to the outside was wide open. “But something is badly wrong.”

* * *

Magica de Spell was done taking orders from a shadow child. After having properly banished Scrooge into a dime, she was going to rebuild her empire from the ground up. Except...there was a small, unanticipated problem. Considering that she had spent fifteen years plotting for this exact moment, she didn’t appreciate the interruption. These things were supposed to go off without a hitch.

She found herself facing a FOWL flunky. Magica aimed her staff, but the egret dodged, faster than it had any right to be. Of course, if he didn’t stay still, then she was going to have a damned hard time bringing him to heel. She couldn’t command his shadow to knock him on his ass, because she couldn’t hit him. 

“What do you want?” she finally growled. “I’m in the middle of a grand revenge scheme and you are getting in my way.”

“Webbigail Vanderquack,” the egret snapped, standing still but liable to move any second. 

“You too?” she scoffed. “Is everyone obsessed with that child?”

Lena, trapped in the shadow realm, made a pathetic protest that Magica ignored. Only she could hear Lena now, seeing as Lena was _her _shadow, but she had no intention of paying any attention to her. Let the shadow girl suffer. She had almost turned traitor. She deserved punishment.

“Where is she?” the egret snapped. “She’s somewhere in this manor.”

“Get the child and leave me alone,” Magica snapped. “I have a city to take over.”

The egret offered her a mocking bow before disappearing faster than she could track. Rolling her eyes, she looked at Scrooge McDuck, ensnared in his number one dime. She was the only person who still had a shadow since she couldn’t risk letting Lena out. But everywhere else, chaos would run rampant throughout town. 

She quite looked forward to it.

* * *

Steelbeak knew something was wrong when his shadow up and left him. He also realized something was wrong when Wren was freeing him. Her hands shook and she didn’t look at him as she worked, which meant she fumbled. When he placed his hands on hers to steady them, she jumped back. There was a spark. He knew there was. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her and she flipped him off.

“What’s so wrong you had to spring me? Again?” Steelbeak asked and then smirked. “You’re starting to make this a habit.”

“I can’t find my daughter,” Wren blurted.

“You mean _our _daughter.”

She gave him a homicidal look. “_My _daughter. Or the other kids. My mother is also missing.”

“You don’t think I had something to do with it, do you?” Steelbeak snorted. “I’ve got bad news for you. I’m good, but not that good.”

“No, that’s not it,” she said and she was wringing her hands now, anxiety getting the better of her. He could almost feel her nerves thrumming with it. “Remember you said that there’s a FOWl operative on the loose that has it in for Webby?”

Steelbeak nodded slowly, not liking where this was heading.

“I think,” she said and swallowed hard, “I think he’s found her, the boys, and my mother.”

* * *

Everything was chaos and it was only through accidentally locating a tunnel beneath the manor that led straight to the Money Bin that the kids were able to escape. They’d come within inches of capture or worse by that egret and when Webby had seen him, she’d locked up. It’d been Huey who had produced the blueprints to the manor and just in time. 

But the Money Bin might not be safe either. They knew something was going on, even if they didn’t know what it was. Dewey was worried about that, but he also worried about Webby freezing as she had. If she’d been on edge before, it was nothing compared to now. Now she looked like she could slice someone in half if they so much as looked at her the wrong way.

And he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that knife. 

Then again, he knew what she feared most now, which gave him the courage to run alongside her, even if he kept an eye out for her daggers sheathed at her hips.

“Are we sure he’s not following us?” Dewey asked, casting a quick glance behind them.

“We’re not sure of anything! Keep running!” Huey advised.

“But…” Dewey faltered as their shadows reappeared, somehow menacing despite being reflections of the light. The shadows tackled them to the ground and within a minute, they were fighting them. Webby’s shadow also had daggers, but they couldn’t cut flesh. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Webby finished off her shadow or at least convinced it to stop fighting long enough to jump in and help Dewey with his. Unfortunately, the shadows seemed to have boundless energy and even after being knocked back and down, they returned to threaten them. They backed up.

“How do you fight a _shadow_?” Louie complained.

“Especially a sentient one,” Huey added.

“Shit!” Webby cried and pointed down the long tunnel. The egret was gaining on them. She spun and crashed into a solid object. Panicked, she drew a dagger and Mrs. Beakley grabbed her wrist. 

“I had a feeling you’d come this way,” Mrs. Beakley said. “Webby...Webby..._stop fighting me_.”

Webby’s eyes filled with tears again and he realized how desperately afraid of her grandmother she was. Agent 22, she kept calling her. Forced to act quickly, Mrs. Beakley disarmed Webby, wrapped her arms about her back, and then hugged her tightly. Webby struggled.

“We don’t have time for this!” Huey objected.

“I’m not going to hurt you, dear,” Mrs. Beakley said. “I promise.”

“That’s what they told me you’d say!” Webby cried. “They told me you’d make up excuses to get me on your side, but I’m onto you!”

“Oh, great, Webby’s gone off the deep end,” Louie said. “Not like she had far to go.”

“I am trying to help you!” Mrs. Beakley said. “Stop it this instant, Webbigail!”

“Webby, you can trust her,” Dewey said. “We do. You can’t keep fighting the world. There are too many people. You have to trust _someone_.”

“I don’t know where Lena is and the shadows attacked and that egret is getting closer…” Webby panted. 

Mrs. Beakley spun, sensing that Webby’s struggles had ceased for the time being. They bolted down the hall and Dewey scooped up Webby’s dagger. You never know--it might come in handy. She also might want it again later.

They ran through an open door and nearly crashed. There was a hole in the wall where most of the Money Bin had been. And, sitting on a golden throne, was a figure that Dewey didn’t recognize, but who seemed inexplicably evil. 

“Magica de Spell?” Webby said.

“You know her?” Dewey asked.

“I know _of _her. She fought with Scrooge on Mount Vesuvius fifteen years ago and vanished...she’s a legend in FOWL,” Webby said. Magica was making some grand declaration that Dewey didn’t hear, but Webby did and she stiffened.

“That’s Lena’s shadow!” she exclaimed.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say, ‘Wait, what?’” Louie said.

“That’s Lena’s shadow,” Webby repeated. Dewey grew antsy. They’d been standing here too long and...he felt a tap on his shoulder. The egret leered at them. He was wearing a lab coat and black goggles. Suddenly, Dewey understood why Webby had been scared to death of scientists. He’d be scared too if this evil creature had happened upon him and implanted him with a chip against his will.

“Not so fast,” the egret said, smiling maliciously. “We’ve only just started to enjoy ourselves.”

Mrs. Beakley released Webby to aim a blow between the man’s eyes. She missed or, rather, she swung too slowly. He moved and snatched Webby, who kicked him in the face. He grabbed her ankle and seemed to consider throwing her for a minute before pressing her against him with her arms behind her back. His grip was considerably tighter than Mrs. Beakley’s and Webby looked like she might have to break something to win free.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steelbeak snarled, coming up behind them.

“And now we have company,” the egret said. “I was wondering when you’d show up. And both of you, too. What a pleasure.”

He grinned at them. “Isn’t it, Wren Beakley, Agent 232, and my so-called boss?”

He sneered. “Now we can really have some fun.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t know how else to end this...so...here we go. xD 
> 
> I know I rewrote The Shadow War a little. I didn't feel like delving into it too deeply. Also, sorry I wrote Lena off the way the show did. But I would like to see how Webby reacts to Violet in this...maybe when I get inspiration again.

Webby struggled against the egret’s grip and he wrapped his arm about her throat. Her struggling continued in earnest and black spots appeared before her eyes. Steelbeak, Wren, Mrs. Beakley, and the boys snarled and she was having a hard time holding onto consciousness long enough to see what they’d do. She still didn’t know what had befallen Lena. It was a strange thing to worry about when this former FOWL operative could strangle the life from her, but there it was.

She swung her legs up and he punched her in the solar plexus. It drove the air out of her in a whoosh. Webby choked. 

“Oh, I won’t kill her yet,” the egret said. His voice seemed to be echoing strangely in her ears. “That would be no fun at all, eh, boss?”

The pressure loosened on her neck and Steelbeak looked murderous once her vision cleared. She’d seen him look that way before, of course, but never over her. She was wary and yet, oddly flattered. He was angry on her behalf. True, he was angry because the egret was hurting one of his ‘possessions’, but she’d take what she could get.

“Let go of her,” Mrs. Beakley snapped. 

“As you wish,” the egret said and then flung Webby at the wall. If she’d struck it, she would’ve cracked her skull on it. Or possibly fallen into the Money Bin. Magica wasn’t paying attention to them yet, but she would soon. Webby’s feathers prickled. Wren caught her before she slammed into anything.

“Ssh, I’ve got you,” Wren said and kissed her on the temple. She was shaking, but Webby didn’t know if it was from anger or fear. Maybe both.

“Why let her go so quickly?” Steelbeak demanded. He smelled a rat and, to be honest, Webby did too. Or, rather, she would once she could think clearly. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. That was closer to death than she would have liked; Black Heron had toyed with her too, but not quite the same way.

The egret chuckled and snapped his fingers. The Money Bin’s defenses materialized, pointed at them. 

“What do you think you’re doing up there?” Magica demanded and Webby was almost relieved. Until she remembered Lena. 

“What did you do with Lena?” Webby snapped, pushing out of her mother’s arms. She was staring up at her from on high and the lasers outlined her. She didn’t care. She would find out the truth, one way or another.

Magica threw her head back and laughed. Again, Webby’s feathers prickled and she jumped in time to avoid the lasers; with her grappling hook equipped, she kept the boys from getting hurt. The adults would have to find their own way down. They landed in the ruined Money Bin and Webby watched their shadows twist and wend, looking for ways to trip them up. The only strange thing about it was that the egret, which had jumped down to join them, had no shadow. She wasn’t concerned with that, however. Magica had been laughing mockingly for almost a minute now.

“What?” Webby spat.

“Your precious little Lena,” Magica crooned. “She cared about you, you know. Even if she was just a magical shadow, a puppet for my bidding.”

“That’s not true,” Webby said, although she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. The egret had a gun pointed at Webby, who ducked its blow but caught a magical blast in the stomach. Gasping, out of breath and a little pissed off at being attacked twice within five minutes, Webby snarled, trying to figure out a battle plan for two enemies, one of whom had magic at her disposal.

Everything was happening too fast. She felt like she was rapidly losing control over the situation. The adults had managed to find a way down, but she noticed that Scrooge was missing. Perplexed, she looked to Magica again, who was flipping a dime up and down. A dime. _The _dime. The one that Lena had been obsessed with. 

Lena couldn’t be in the dime, could she? No, that made no sense. A shadow, Magica had said. And their shadows were behaving strangely. (And the egret had none, which was stranger yet).

“Are you looking for someone?” Magica crooned. “Someone perhaps rich and annoyingly arrogant?”

“Flintheart Glomgold?” Dewey queried.

“No, you fool!” Magica snapped. “Scrooge! I have your uncle trapped in this dime!”

“And what about Lena?” Webby gasped out as soon as she was capable of it. She frowned, contemplative. What if she played her two enemies off each other? It was worth a shot. Of course, that assumed that Steelbeak would let Magica finish off the egret. Once the adults reached the Money Bin, using a parachute Wren had handy, all bets were off. She’d seen the homicidal gleam in her father’s eyes.

“Yeah, okay, that makes no sense,” Dewey said. Magica growled as if having to explain what was going on here was such an onerous undertaking that detracted too much from her revenge.

“And none of you bothered to find Lena’s hideout, which would have told you the whole sordid affair,” Magica huffed. “Fifteen years ago, I battled Scrooge on Mount Vesuvius. He thrust me into the dime as a curse and, clinging to a vestige of my power, I created Lena, my shadow, to do my bidding. She’s been in my thrall this entire time.”

Magica smiled cruelly. “Or hadn’t you wondered why you suddenly had a friend, Webster? As if anyone would trust the child of a known villain?”

Webby flinched and her stomach churned. The egret and the other adults landed in front of her and she was too stunned to react. Lena wasn’t here to defend herself. Feeling bereft, her gaze was glued on Magica, who was relishing the attention. (If Webby had been trapped as a shadow for fifteen years, perhaps she could have empathized. If, you know, she’d also been completely insane).

“Let’s face it. You’re only here because your grandmother didn’t understand how much work it would be to raise a delinquent like you,” Magica said. Webby got the impression she’d been saving up this revenge scheme for months now, at least as long as she and Lena had been friends. Friends? Had they ever been friends? She glanced at the friendship bracelet she wore on her wrist and fingered it, but kept it on. Even with Magica’s acidic remarks, Webby was reluctant to vanquish the last vestiges of her friendship with Lena.

The egret snickered. “You’re doing my work for me. Shall we?”

“I work _alone_,” Magica growled. 

“We need to get that dime back and get Scrooge out of it,” Huey hissed, drawing his brothers into a huddle. Dewey grabbed Webby to bring her into it too. Her eyes were burning and wet with unshed tears. Had it all been a farce, a gimmick to gain her trust? How could she have fallen for it so readily? But Lena had said they were kindred spirits. 

Lena had said she’d been abused too. Had it been part of the act? Had Lena read her like a book and then manipulated her into doing what she wanted? 

“And we need to worry about that crazy FOWL guy,” Louie added, after a few minutes’ discussion that Webby didn’t pay attention to. He glanced at Webby. “You don’t look so hot.”

Her bracelet was warm on her wrist, warmer than it ought to be. Magica was exchanging epithets with the egret, but that reprieve wouldn’t last for long. In the meanwhile, her bracelet seemed to be growing hotter, but not yet uncomfortable. It was more like a reassuring embrace. Webby’s throat was tight.

“Oh, forget this!” Magica snapped and, turning the coins into a giant fist, flung it sideways at the kids. Webby tackled and knocked aside anyone in its direct path and the egret landed in front of her. For once in her life, she didn’t have the heart to fight. 

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Steelbeak snapped, approaching the egret with Wren at his side. It was uncanny to see her parents agreeing on something enough to stand together, literally.

“But you’re about to be buzzard food,” Steelbeak snapped.

The boys had implemented a part of their plan, which Webby hadn’t been paying attention to. They were distracting Magica and taunting her. Webby had her own problems. The egret was coming in, guns blazing, against her parents, but he was aiming for Webby. Steelbeak got in a good right hook that sent the egret stumbling--for all that he didn’t have a shadow and he was supernaturally fast, he was a mere mortal. And a parent’s rage when their child is threatened supersedes anything that a mundane person could do.

Magica had decided to target Webby too. Fortunately, with the adults focusing their attacks on the egret, Webby could turn to face her. Overhead, she thought she heard the Sunchaser, which was confusing and distracting her. What was Launchpad doing up there?

Magica aimed a concentrated magical blast at her and a barrier sprang up between them. Webby’s bewilderment increased. Strictly speaking, that shouldn’t have been possible. Then again, she was losing track of whatever everyone was doing. Magica’s vendetta, for all that she’d been seeking vengeance against Scrooge, was now only on Webby. And if Lena had done all of that just to manipulate Webby on Magica’s behalf, then Magica’s behavior made absolutely no sense.

It was almost like the sorceress hated Webby in particular, out of all the children. Even when the boys were attempting to draw her away, she had eyes only for Webby.

The barrier changed form and became a person. Lena. _Lena_? Magica growled and Webby went on the offensive. With her opponent off balance, she started fighting back. Besides, Lena’s appearance, albeit as a strange shadow creature, was enough to put Magica off her game.

“You! I banished you!” Magica snapped at Lena. 

“Stay away from my best friend, Aunt Magica!” Lena snapped. “And stop lying to her!”

“I didn’t lie, you impertinent brat,” Magica hissed. She swung her staff savagely at Lena’s form and Webby pounced, punching Magica in the face. But it was too late. Lena’s shadow form dispersed in a way that seemed unpleasantly final. 

Meanwhile, the egret was down but not out. He also seemed to be out of bullets, but those he’d already fired were still ricocheting around. Magica hissed.

“Do you mind?!” she snapped.

“Actually, yes,” Dewey said. “I do.”

Snagging the dime from her once Webby had hammered it away, Dewey succeeded in tricking the sorceress into losing her powers by bouncing her magic off a mirror and into the dime. Webby’s attention jerked away again, to Steelbeak and her mother.

Mrs. Beakley was holding a hand against her side, which was bleeding profusely. 

“Granny!” Webby cried. Between Lena’s demise and now this, Webby felt like she was running on pure emotional overload. The egret swung back, blocking her path to her parents. Wren tackled him about the waist and brought him down; he swung the gun and clobbered Wren on the head with it. Her mother went limp.

“Better,” the egret said. He seemed oblivious to the happy reunion happening around the corner with the boys and Scrooge. To be fair, Webby was oblivious too.

Steelbeak stared at Wren’s prone form and pulled out his own gun. Somehow, Webby should have been more surprised by that, but she was beyond astonishment now. She had drifted somewhere into a state of unreality, where she felt untethered from the events surrounding her. It was different from when she’d had the chip in her mind--she knew the emotions were out there, but she was choosing to shut them out or else she’d have a meltdown.

Steelbeak and the egret, whose name she still hadn’t learned, were having a shootout. Meanwhile, her grandmother was bleeding from a wound in her side and Lena was...gone. Magica had disappeared too, but right now, Webby’s ability to care only stretched so far.

“Webby!” Dewey cried, yanking her away. She’d become absorbed in the shoot-out, to the exclusion of everything else. She was shaking, her teeth chattering, and without realizing it, her cheeks were wet.

He wrenched her attention away from the dueling parties .”Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay’,” she said and her beak quivered. She flung herself at him and Huey, Louie, and Scrooge hugged her. There was a loud bang and she turned to discover the egret flat on his back with red pooling beneath him. Scrooge sighed, aggravated.

“Curse me kilts, it’ll take forever to clean up after this,” Scrooge grumbled.

Wren was coming to...and Steelbeak had taken a page out of Magica’s book. He was nowhere to be seen. 

“I don’t think I even want to know what happened there,” Louie admitted, grimacing.

“He was a saboteur,” Wren said. She was limping as she rejoined them. She frowned at her daughter. “Webby, what’s wrong?”

Webby shook her head. Her throat was too tight to speak. 

“Lena sacrificed herself to save you,” Huey said quietly.

Webby nodded, touching her friendship bracelet. It was no longer warm to the touch, but felt cold almost, as if whatever had inhabited had gone. 

“I’m sure we’ll see her again somehow,” Wren said and Webby looked up, surprised.

Wren smiled. “Oh, nothing stays gone for long around here. Don’t give up.”

“Is he dead?” Dewey asked, cocking his head at the egret.

“No, but he will be heading to the police station for questioning,” Wren said. “After the medics are done with him. Why am I not surprised that Steelbeak bailed…”

“Granny first, then the FOWL agent,” Webby said once she could speak. 

Mrs. Beakley smiled. “It was almost getting worth getting shot for you to stop calling me Agent 22.”

Her expression darkened. “Almost.”

She smoothed back Webby’s hair with her free hand. Webby hugged her, although she was careful not to jar her injuries. Seeing her grandmother injured was enough to scare her. Her grandmother wasn’t the indomitable Agent 22. She could be hurt. She could be killed, god forbid. 

And now that she knew that...she was going to keep a closer eye on her. And in the meanwhile...she’d figure out a way to talk to Lena again. If her mother was right, then Lena wasn’t gone, not really.

Unfortunately, that also meant Steelbeak wasn’t gone either. She’d never be rid of him, not really. 

The egret awoke, screaming his head off. Mrs. Beakley smiled cruelly.

“Rise and shine,” Wren said. 

Webby clung to her grandmother and let the boys hug her. She wouldn’t let herself believe all of what Magica had told her. Because she needed to find out the truth. And she would, once she brought Lena back. 


End file.
